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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086917">Project REsistance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcarusTheKid/pseuds/IcarusTheKid'>IcarusTheKid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil: Resistance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Becca's a two faced bitch, Carlos is kinda there but not really, F/M, I'm pretty sure it's good but I dunno, M/M, Resident Evil 3 Remake Spoilers, Resident Evil Resistance, Sam proteccs his Sandwich, SamxMartin, Slightly slow burn, This is my first fanfic so keep that in mind, TyronexBecca, Umbrella is even shadier than usual, tried to make it funny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:02:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcarusTheKid/pseuds/IcarusTheKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You wouldn't expect six strangers living their lives to be of any interest to the giant pharmaceutical company, but Umbrella doesn't discriminate. Especially not when they're running their twisted experiments, trying to develop the next billion-dollar Bio-weapon. Now, these six survivors have no choice but to go through trial after trial as Umbrella harvests their data. They tell them that this is their fate. That even if they escape, the virus they've been infected with would bring Humanity down to its knees. Well, it does. But not because of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Samuel Jordan/Martin Sandwich, Tyrone Henry/Becca Woolett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Brain Power</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is this guy still standing?!” Martin yelled, just narrowly dodging a lunge from the monster shambling around the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s wearing a bulletproof vest, what do you expect?” Valerie responded, straining her voice to be heard over the sound of Becca’s gunshots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The park ranger was down on one knee, shooting at the various zombies that shuffled through the open door, fending them off so the rest of the group could take care of the armored zombie behind them. “It’d be nice if ya’ll hurry it up! I’m runnin’ low on ammo over here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, that’s it,” Sam said, walking toward the zombie with a resolute look in his eyes. “I am so! Freaking! Sick! Of! This! Place!” He shouted, punctuating each word with a swing of his bat. Eventually, the monster had fallen to the floor, limp and lifeless, its rotting skull smashed to a bloody pulp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin covered his nose and mouth as Valerie gagged from the smell. Sam winced but otherwise seemed fine. He crouched down, careful to keep his jeans from touching the pool of dark red liquid that was covering the floor. Rifling through the zombie’s pockets, Sam came away a moment later holding a keycard covered with a substance none of them wanted to know more about. A voice crackled over the loudspeakers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oi! You killed Yorick! … Such a strange name for a security guard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You care that we killed it?” Martin questioned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You knew the thing’s name?” Valerie asked, struggling to catch her breath with the smell of rotting flesh permeating the entire facility.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice chuckled. “Oh, non non non, I don't care about him at all. I’m just amused by those looks on your faces! Haha!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your name again?” Becca asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daniel Fabron, mon chere. Why do you ask?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you, Daniel.” She said, shooting a camera that was aimed a tad bit too far under her eye level for her liking. “That oughta piss him off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then let’s get the hell out of here before we see what he does next,” Sam said, leading the way through the door, knocking another zombie to the ground in the process.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin was always envious at how much of a natural leader Sam was. It didn't matter how many undead they had to kill, or what the mastermind of the day decided to try and break their spirits with. Sam was always the one who kept them going. He brought everybody together. So it was no surprise that on the rare occasions their lives weren’t in danger, all Martin was able to think about was him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bravo!” Daniel said, his voice carrying the tone of a sadist. “Let us see how much further you can go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is he planning?” Valerie wondered as they stepped into the elevator. “Statistically, something is about to go very wrong, I know it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin didn't usually like to tempt fate like that, but Valerie was right. This had been way too easy. Usually, they would be fighting their way through too many zombies to count, their only hope for survival being the various strange abilities bestowed upon them through Umbrella’s twisted experiments. He still wasn't sure if they were intentional or not. Regardless, Umbrella was getting as much mileage out of them as they could. Martin looked around at his fellow survivors as the elevator took them to the final testing area. He was never able to tell whether it was going up or down. He guessed that was the point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie was digging through her backpack, obviously searching for something she swore she’d picked up. Becca was leaning against the wall, one foot crossed in front of the other, checking her nails. Sam stood steadfast in the middle of the elevator, arms crossed, his bat over his shoulder. Martin wondered what he looked like to them. If they even took note of him at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, Martin was good with machines. He could disable traps, use the flash baton Umbrella had given him to blind their enemies, and he was smart. Smarter than most, thanks to Umbrella’s experiments. He wasn't quite as good with numbers as Valerie was. Or as good a shot as Becca. Or as strong as Sam. Or as tough as Tyrone. Or as good with computers as January. Sometimes, Martin wondered if he was really good at anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was. He knew he was. When it came to figuring out how things worked, how machines functioned, nobody was better at it than him. Plus, thanks to his previous work experience, he knew a few things about medicine. Being able to pick apart traps or make some of your own was always helpful. But when it came to combat… Well, there was no point in sugarcoating it. He was hopeless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A gun was a machine, so he knew well enough how they worked. He knew how to load them, how to take the safety off, and how to fire them. But that was about it. Plus, he was a coward. Plain and simple. The only reason he was still alive was because he always had three other people to lean on. If he ever had to fight alone… Well, he preferred not to think about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elevator finally stopped, opening its doors to a dimly lit hallway. The fluorescent elevator lights gave them a slight breadth of help, but once they were all out, they knew the doors would close behind them. Fear and hesitation started to settle into their bones until an impatient voice assaulted their eardrums.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hurry up! There are glaciers that move faster than you.” Daniel said. Martin could hear the smirk on the french bastard’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, guys,” Sam said. “Waiting will only make it easier for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin wished on every birthday candle he’d ever extinguished in his nineteen years of life that he could have even a sliver of Sam’s bravery. Martin watched the young man walk into the dark, back stretched straight and tall, and wondered what he could possibly do to keep them all safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s when he saw it. A vent grate just above Sam’s head. It looked old. Flimsy. Like all Martin had to do was get one of his tools under it and, </span>
  <em>
    <span>snap!</span>
  </em>
  <span> It would come right off. Where did it lead? Did it matter? Compared to the alternative, he supposed that it didn't. But how could they-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Martin?” Sam’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “You coming?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh- Uh- Y-yes- I mean, I am!” Martin hated the way his thoughts scrambled up whenever Sam looked at him. Not the time, Martin thought. Not the goddamn time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough, the second Martin walked out of the elevator, the doors slammed shut, the sound reverberating in the air. The group braced themselves for a stream of undead to descend upon them, but there was nothing. No shuffling feet, no groans of damnation, just… Nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now then,” Daniel said, startling the survivors as they moved forwards through the dark. “Your objective in this, the final testing chamber, is to destroy the three canisters filled with deadly bio-hazards. Doing so will release the emergency lock on the door, allowing you to escape. Good luck, little mice. You’ll need it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he say deadly bio-hazards?” Becca asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ordinarily, I wouldn't put much faith in what someone like Daniel says. However, given that this is Umbrella we’re dealing with… I’d say there’s about a 99.95% chance he’s not joking.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do they expect us to suddenly develop a healing factor or something? We’re infected with some weird virus, not superheroes!” Martin said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam was silent. Martin wondered what was going on behind those dreamy- uh, that is, dark eyes of his. Eventually, the hallway opened up into a big, multi-story testing facility. There were various lifts controlled by terminals, and Martin could already see the large glowing canisters they were meant to break. What he didn't see, however, were zombies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In fact, Martin didn't even see a single trap on the ground. The entire place was empty. Which only spiked the group’s fear to astronomical levels. They’d never encountered an empty room before, let alone an entire area. Daniel was screwing with them, Martin was certain of it. The only question was why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were only a few steps in when they got their answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hatch opened in the ceiling, and something fell out. Something big. It crashed into the floor in front of them with incredible force, nearly crushing them with how close it landed. Slowly, the dust settled, and the thing stood up. It stood up to its full, impossible height, at least twice as tall as Martin. Its dark, dead eyes bore into them from beneath the black hat, Its face contorted into an eternal scowl. The thing’s pale, shriveled skin only barely concealed by its massive trenchcoat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin was a coward. He knew that. But this thing terrified him even beyond that. He wasn't scared of what it would do to him. He was scared of what it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn't.</span>
  </em>
  <span> As the four survivors stared at this abomination before them, its eyes glowed a deep, devilish red, and its face contorted into an even more terrifying expression. It smiled. A voice all too familiar came from its mouth, sending a paralyzing chill through the group.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“HERE’S TRENCHY!” Daniel yelled, glee and titillation clear in every syllable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Run!” Sam yelled, and they did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, most of them did. Martin tried, but his legs wouldn't move. The thing called Trenchy took slow, heavy steps toward him, moved a hand toward him, toward his neck. It would be so easy for a thing like that to snap him right in half. This is it, Martin thought. This is how I die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, and he felt a tightness around his neck. But it wasn't Trenchy’s cold, almost robotic hands he felt. It was the neck of his shirt tugging at his adam’s apple as Sam yanked it, and by extension, Martin, backward and into his strong, protective arms. If it weren’t for the nightmare fuel continuing towards them, Martin’s heart probably would have skipped a beat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam grabbed Martin by the hand and pulled him as they ran. Every rapid step matching the pounding beat of his heart. He could see Valerie and Becca standing on a lift, waiting for them. Becca seemed to be debating pressing the button and leaving them behind, but Valerie was covering it with her hand. A moment before they reached them, Martin risked a look back… And immediately regretted it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite his massive stature, Trenchy was only a few steps behind them. For a moment, Martin was ready to give up. Then he looked at Sam. He couldn't see his face, but he realized that Sam had seriously risked his life to save him. He looked at Valerie and Becca. They’d helped him more times than he could count. He decided it was time to return the favor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time seemed to slow as Martin finally grew aware of his surroundings, his adrenaline addled brain focusing in on all the smaller details nobody else seemed to notice. Like the way Trenchy’s steps seemed slightly out of sync, almost as if he couldn't quite control his speed. Or the big, sturdy cable that was attached to a massive terminal, and was plugged into an outlet on the opposite wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin had an idea, but it wouldn't work very well if Sam tried to rescue him again. Martin squeezed Sam’s hand, his nails digging into the jock’s skin so hard he was worried it might draw blood. Sam looked back at him, and Martin met his eyes. For the first time, Sam looked scared. Not just scared. Terrified. Martin actually managed a smile. Sam looked confused for a moment, before seeming to understand. They nodded to each other, and when Martin let go of Sam’s hand, Sam didn't try to hold on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin knew that no matter what, he couldn't slow down. If he did, Trenchy would catch up with him in an instant. But how could he reach the cable if he couldn't do it the normal way? He’d only ever seen situations like this in movies and comic books, and the heroes in the stories always did crazy, unbelievable stunts. Martin had never tried to do them before, but he figured that if he could just get the angle right...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't have much time. He could feel his focus slipping. Voices were becoming clearer, noises were becoming louder, and Trenchy was barreling ever closer. It was now or never. Given what never meant in this particular context, Martin chose now. Sam kept running. Martin rolled. He rolled toward the wall where the cable was plugged in, grabbed it, and pulled it with every ounce of his strength. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trenchy may have tried to stop, but he’d built up too much momentum. His foot caught on the cable, and he fell. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hard.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Martin would have celebrated, if not for the fact that the cable yanked him down with it. His head hit the floor with a sickening </span>
  <em>
    <span>smack.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Martin had planned to get up and stomp on Trenchy’s head as he ran for the lift. A concussion was not part of the plan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before, the faint buzzing in his head had helped him to focus his thoughts. This time, it didn't let him think at all. He could faintly make out the sound of Becca stifling a giggle as Sam and Valerie carried him to the lift, but his vision was blurry and fading in and out. He thought he felt the lift going up, but he couldn't be sure until Valerie shoved a plant in his mouth. The bitter taste got him to perk up enough for him to spit it out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he okay? He’s gonna be okay right? Becca stop fucking laughing it isn't funny!” Sam said. If Martin was capable of talking right then, he would have thanked him for, well, everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Head wounds bleed a lot, so they usually look worse than they actually are. Still, that looked… Bad.” Valerie said, taking bandages and disinfectant spray from her bag and dressing Martin’s wounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh… Guys? That thing’s not dead… Is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam reluctantly left Martin’s side and moved next to Becca at the railing. Trenchy wasn't moving. They say the bigger you are the harder you fall, but if Martin was still alive, it was seriously doubtful that Trenchy was dead. Most likely, he was just stunned or something. They hadn’t heard from Daniel for some time. Probably for the best. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s just focus on breaking those canisters. We’ll deal with him if we have to.” Sam said, moving back to Martin. “How’s he doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s ask him that,” Valerie said, finishing Martin’s bandages. He looked like a mummy, even his eyes were glassy and unfocused. “How are you feeling, Martin? Any better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin blinked. He blinked again. Then he smiled, pasting a goofy grin to his face, and held his hand out in a thumbs up. “Martin is at full capacity!” He said, laughing a bit. Becca laughed too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good lord, he looks like he’s just come back from an all-nighter at a rodeo bar!” She said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s not our normal Martin. He might have a concussion. Martin, how many fingers am I holding up?” Valerie asked, holding up three fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three. Three… Three. So… Three, plus three, plus three, is… Nine!” Martin said, holding up an additional six fingers alongside Valerie’s three.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s… What- what is that? What does that mean?” Sam asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That means his brain is processing information, but interpreting leaves something to be desired. He shouldn’t be in serious danger, but we need to make sure he stays conscious. Otherwise, there could be long-lasting side effects.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind of side effects?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They vary from case to case. It could be something rather simple like a minor speech impediment, or… Something worse.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No offense you two, but something worse is kinda starting to wake up!” Becca said, pointing over the railing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit. Okay, let’s go, guys. We have bio-hazards to spill.” Sam said, helping Martin to his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oooh, bio-hazard? That would make a cool video game title…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, Marty, you can make it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becca and Valerie each chose a canister to focus on, while Sam walked Martin over to the third. Sam sat him down against the wall and went to work, each swing of his bat putting another crack in the surprisingly hard glass of the canister. Each crack reminding him of the crack on Martin’s forehead. He hoped the teen would be okay. Sneaking a glance back at him, Sam-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit! Hey, hey hey hey, C’mon, M, wake up!” Sam said, shaking Martin awake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm… Five more minutes Mom…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not five more minutes, come on, you gotta stay awake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin didn't say anything. He just swatted Sam’s hand away and made a face, like he was pouting. Sam had to admit, it would be cute if the kid weren’t suffering from a traumatic brain injury. Sam tried one more time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not your mom, Back to the Future. Now wake up before I beat some sense into you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was harsh, but it seemed to work to some degree. Martin perked up, his bright blue eyes focusing in on Sam’s face. It wasn't much, but it gave Sam hope that Martin might just be okay. Martin’s next words encouraged that hope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” Sam said, smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long did it take you to come up with that nickname, three whole seconds? Oh, God, my head hurts. What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did a very awesome, but very dangerous thing, and I would ask that you please never do it again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I at least cool now? I hope this headache is worth something at least.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about? I always thought you were cool.” Sam said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin looked surprised. “Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam laughed. “Why wouldn't you be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of the lift coming up interrupted them. Becca and Valerie came back just in time to see the monster coming up with it. Trenchy’s mouth moved, and Daniel’s voice came out of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I confess, I admire your dedication to breaking shit, but this is hopeless. You should give up now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, hell no,” Martin said, struggling to stand. “I thought I killed your ugly mug.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will admit, monsieur Sandwich, you caught me by surprise! I never expected a small fry like you to pull off such a daring move.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam tried to stop Martin from moving any closer, but Martin </span>
  <em>
    <span>politely </span>
  </em>
  <span>told him to focus his attention on the canister. Sam had never seen this side of Martin before. But he liked it. Martin and Trenchy kept walking towards each other, and Becca and Valerie aimed their guns at the massive monster, just in case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly? Neither did I.” Martin said. “I guess I’m just getting tired of your bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh ho! Such sass from the sassafras! I assure you, you will not trip me a second time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, c’mon, Daniel. You don't really think I’d try the same move twice in a row do you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don't know what you’ll try at this point! But I promise I will try </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Starting with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s something you really should know about you and me, Daniel. Whereas you get by in life with a bit of charisma here and a bit of sadism there, I accomplish my goals with good, old fashioned… Brain Power.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin whipped out his flash baton before Trenchy or Daniel could react, but hearing Martin’s trademark catchphrase, his teammates covered their eyes before they were blinded. Trenchy recoiled, clearly having some semblance of a mind of its own, as Daniel cursed and damned the group to hell. Before they could get their bearings, Martin pulled an electro mine from his pack, armed it, and threw it between Trenchy’s legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam! Break it! Now!” Martin yelled, his voice cracking a bit as he turned and ran towards the exit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It! Won't! Budge!” Sam shouted back, his bat doing little against the hardened glass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got this,” Becca said, aiming at a weak spot just as Sam hit the glass again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The resulting break was bigger than expected. The chemicals and who knows what else burst through the cracks, the pressure difference sending it onto Sam and soaking through his jacket sleeve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah! Ah, shit!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam! Are you alright?” Valerie asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, I’m fine, let’s get the hell out of here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The mine won't hold him for long, let’s go!” Martin yelled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The four of them ran to the exit as Daniel yelled after them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well played, little mice! You beat my maze!” Martin looked back as the doors began to shut behind them. “Good luck… She won’t be as easy to deal with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, he was gone. The doors shut, and all the group had left before them was a long and somber walk back to the waiting room. Martin couldn't stop his dormant thoughts from crashing into him like a tidal wave as the adrenaline wore off. How many times had they done this now? How many mazes had they been forced through, how many monsters had they killed? Just how long had they been in that testing facility? And what would Umbrella do to them when they didn't need them anymore?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin looked around at his teammates, and thought about Tyrone and January, waiting in that white, sterile room with one solitary chair and little else. He knew how they felt. Hoping their friends would come back safe and sound because one more person in the room means they might not have to leave it. Martin was sure they all cared about each other. They had to to survive. But pretending there wasn’t a single selfish reason behind it was naive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He only hoped that selfishness wouldn't tear them apart. Not all of them would get to leave here. Only four of them would be allowed out of the waiting room, and once Umbrella realizes they left an escape route open, they’d be sure to seal it. Meaning that whoever got left behind may never get out at all. Still, they had to try.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were going to get out. No matter what.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Numbers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The group winds down after Daniel's trial, Martin comes forward, and a decision is made.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move over, Tyrone! Sam needs that chair a lot more than you right now,” Valerie said as she supported Sam with his good arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Val, I told you, I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your arm is literally smoking! Now shut up and sit down!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie didn't have much traditional medical training, but she’d read so many medical textbooks, it didn't matter much. Not to mention she was a chemistry major in college. Umbrella abducting her and forcing her into the trials was a blessing for the rest of the group, but for Valerie, it was an even greater curse. She knew what the sick pharmaceutical conglomerate was testing them for. She knew so much, much more than she let on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes she wondered whether the other survivors saw through her layer of dorky naivete. Spouting probabilities and constantly adjusting her glasses was really all she could think to do to make herself seem like a quiet little intern with little understanding of the larger goings-on at Umbrella. But she did understand. They threw her in this room with five other fuck-ups expressly </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> she understood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you move it, Sam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, what the hell happened?” Tyrone asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trenchy,” The four responded in unison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ty and Jan looked at each other, eyebrows raised, before agreeing they had no desire to know any more than that. If it had a name, it couldn't have possibly been good. Sam tried to move his arm, but all he could manage was a slight jerk before wincing, biting his lip in an effort not to vocalize his pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, take off your jacket,” Valerie said. “I need to see what’s going on under there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Valerie, I’m fine, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are very clearly not fine, Sam. You can’t even move it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll heal, I just need a sling or someth-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you shut up and take your stupid jacket off?!” Martin shouted, worry clear in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam, we don't know what was in those canisters. If we don't take a look, and it turns out to be something really bad, we might have to amputate it.” Valerie explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No, please, I… I can't…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let us see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam thought for a second, closed his eyes, and began removing his jacket. Valerie helped get his afflicted arm out of the sleeve, and Martin took his jacket and laid it on the floor. Sam kept his eyes closed, his face tense as he heard the group collectively gasp. Sam’s arm had suffered some intense chemical burns. His entire forearm looked as if it was decaying before their eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The skin had turned wrinkled and almost leathery, boils forming near the wrist and elbow. The area between was the worst, pockets of flesh were melted and glowing a deep, bloody red. Valerie had seen a lot of things in her time at Umbrella, but this? This was on another level. The only possible explanation was that the company had graduated from big pharma to full-scale biological warfare. In retrospect, the walking dead and poisonous gas they’d been hit with in the trials probably should’ve tipped her off sooner. She supposed she just never expected them to get this… Controlled with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” Valerie started. “It doesn't look like we’ll have to amputate, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>January gagged, doubled over, and began taking deep, controlled breaths in an effort not to vomit. Becca turned around completely, and Martin couldn't look away. Sam relaxed a bit, but still didn't open his eyes, preferring instead to clench his teeth as Valerie poked and prodded at his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t good, though. I have no idea how to treat something like this… Even if I did, I don't think I have the supplies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe they do?” January said, pointing at one of the many cameras mounted to the wall of the big, white waiting room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey… Yeah!” Tyrone exclaimed, moving toward one and yelling at whoever was watching. “You guys know you won't get good data or whatever if he can't do anything! He’ll just die! I know that doesn't matter much to you, but I’d guess it would be best if he could put up a fight at the end. You really just gonna let him suffer like this and get chomped on next time he goes in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The camera whirred as it zoomed in on Ty’s face, but otherwise, nothing else happened. The silence was deafening as the group waited for a response. Any response. Valerie took note of Sam’s hands, clenched so tight that his nails were drawing blood from where they dug into the heel of his palm. His forehead was dripping with sweat, and his eyes, finally tired of being closed, stared down at his arm. Valerie had no idea what emotions were swirling around behind those eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe anger, maybe frustration, maybe hatred, because this never would’ve happened if not for Umbrella. Or maybe he was sad. Maybe he was despairing at the thought that, even if he were to escape from this awful place, any chance of pursuing his dreams may be gone for good. Effectively, he had nothing to fight for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing to fight for…” Valerie whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam looked up at her, confused, as the chemist stood and walked over to where Tyrone was fuming at the small sphere nestled in the corner of the wall. She took a breath, calling upon her more assertive personality she’d been forced to take on to get any attention at all during her time at Umbrella, and began to make her case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This entire test operates on the assumption that we want to get out, right? We want to live because we all have something waiting for us on the outside. Well, Sam wants to be a boxer. If his arm isn't healed, that can never happen, regardless of whether we get out or not. He has nothing to fight for, so he won't fight. Which means you won't get anything out of him. Are you okay with letting your investment go like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, silence came from the camera. A moment later, however, a faint grinding sound could be heard coming from the walls around them. It was a sound the survivors were familiar with, and as soon as it registered, the whole atmosphere of the room improved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thank God,” Tyrone said. “Anybody remember which wall it is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It feels like it's a different wall every time, doesn't it?” Jan thought out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the walls of the room began to open up, revealing a cache of supplies in the alcove beyond. Food, water, medicine, etc. All stacked high in big cargo crates, the Umbrella logo displayed proudly on every side. Valerie ran and began to comb through the supplies, quickly noticing a tub of ointment that had never been included in the supply drops before then. ‘For Chad’ was written on a post-it note attached to the lid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie couldn’t decide between being amused or angry at Umbrella. On the one hand, that nickname was something the group had come up with on their own. It felt wrong for Umbrella to use it, since they so clearly meant it as a derivative. On the other, it showed that there were people in the facility who cared enough to notice small details like that. Maybe people who cared about her. Either way, Sam had medicine. Hopefully it would be enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Valerie went to treat Sam, the others rummaged through the crates, removing food and water, and gulping it down unceremoniously. Tyrone made sure to bring some to Sam as Martin took a first aid spray and used it on this head wound. It wouldn't help with his brain trauma, but at least he wouldn't be bleeding. As he finished, he noticed an envelope resting atop one of the untouched crates. He reached out, opened it up, and began to read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached the end of the short note. He read it again. A third time, and even more after that, his blood running cold and his skin growing goosebumps as he processed what it said, as well as what it meant for the group’s future. Shit, Martin thought. He didn't like to use profanities, even in his mind, but this particular situation was so batshit fucking crazy that he couldn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> use them. He read the letter one last time, just to be completely sure of its contents.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Congratulations on completing the first of your final four trials. Please enjoy today’s rations. We have cookies this time</span>
  </em>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first of the final four trials. What the fuck did that mean? More specifically, what did that mean for them? Martin knew Umbrella sure as hell wasn't going to let them go if they made it through. They were going to kill them. No doubt about it. Martin already decided they had to escape, but now, with this information? They had to escape as soon as possible. But… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey guys! Showers open!” Tyrone said, his mouth filled with a ham sandwich. Martin shoved the note in his pocket as Tyrone turned to the group, pointing at an open room in the opposite wall. “Becca? You wanna go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would love to, but I’m hungry enough to eat a horse. Val?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kinda busy here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right. How you doin’ Sammy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How the fuck do you think?! Ah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Sorry. Jan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo! There are cookies in here!” January said, holding up a big jar of chocolate chip cookies. Everybody jumped and raced toward January as Martin did his best to conceal the crinkling sound in his pants while he walked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, uh, I’m gonna go shower, okay guys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nobody paid any attention to him except for Sam, who stared at Martin’s back as he walked to the shower, quickly shutting the door behind him. His momentary distraction gone, Sam winced as Valerie applied another layer of ointment to his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ that fucking hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, chemical burns tend to do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell is this stuff anyway? You sure it won't make things worse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be frank, Sam, it couldn't possibly get worse.” Valerie said, trying to rub in the medicine as gently as she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, gee, that's reassuring."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't like to sugar-coat, especially not to you. I know you're stronger than that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie looked toward the other three survivors, fighting over the jar of cookies with playful ignorance. She thought about her roommate, acting like a dementia patient as her memories slowly left her. By the time Valerie had made some progress into her investigation, her roommate had taken to staring out the window, humming what sounded like a nursery rhyme from her youth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie realized that she was jealous of her. If their roles were reversed, would her roommate have investigated Umbrella? Would she be the one in the trials instead of Valerie? If so, Valerie realized she wouldn't care. Selfish as it was, Valerie couldn't take much more of this. If she could switch places with her roommate, if she could be the one humming nursery rhymes while the day passed by her, she wouldn't feel guilty for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie wasn't humming nursery rhymes, however. She was here, rubbing some strange ointment she didn't recognize on a man who, while a perfectly brave and admirable individual, seemed to have the collective intelligence of three fifth graders in a trenchcoat. She applied the image to Trenchy, laughing at the absurdity. Eventually, Valerie had coated Sam’s arm with the medicine as Martin exited the shower room, his curly black hair sticking to his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Martin, do you think you could help me out?” Valerie asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin seemed a bit startled, but he came over regardless, one hand in his pocket as he walked. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My hands are covered in goop, and I don't want to get Sam’s bandages dirtier than necessary. Could you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… You want me to… To bandage his…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can do that much, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don't have to if you don't want to, M.” Sameul said, trying to comfort Martin with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin only frowned though. “I can do it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lovely! I’ll go take a shower then.” Valerie said, leaving before anyone could protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin hesitated for a second before taking a roll of bandages from Valerie’s bag and getting down to his knees in front of Sam’s arm. Martin did his best not to look at Sam or his arm, but as it turns out, it's pretty hard to properly treat an injury when you can't see what you’re doing. Martin finally allowed himself to look after poking Sam in a rather delicate spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam was silent as he watched Martin, eyes flitting back and forth between the teen’s eyes and his nimble fingers wrapping the wound in gauze. Sam wasn't entirely sure what it was about Martin that drew him in so much. The kid was smart, far smarter than Sam, although that wasn't the highest bar to clear. And the way Martin took control of the situation with Trenchy had been rather out of character. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe I should ask him, Sam thought. But he was worried that it might offend Martin somehow. Sam remembered what it was like to be small. He wasn't always the jock he is now. When he was younger, he’d been a textbook delinquent, rebelling against every authority figure he could find. Really though, he got in so much trouble because he enjoyed the rush of adrenaline he got.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beating people up was his favorite method, but just knowing he was doing something he shouldn’t was all it took. It wasn't until he realized he could make an actual career out of beating people up that he began to figure his shit out. He realized he could come off as any number of negative things, but he wasn't so bad. At least, he tried not to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, if it had happened just a few years earlier, Sam could see himself loving this situation. Getting to spend all day beating monsters to a bloody pulp might have sounded like paradise to his teenage self. Now though, he had goals. He had people who cared about him waiting for him to come home. Well, he hoped they were, at any rate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam wondered if Martin saw the smirk on his face whenever they went through a trial together. Sam did his best to hide it. He wasn't that person anymore. Still, as much as he wanted to escape, part of him did enjoy it. He hoped Martin didn't see who he used to be. Sam didn't want to admit it, but he wasn't so different from the monsters they killed on a daily basis. If anything, he might just be worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Sam said, trying to get Martin’s attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin flinched, ceasing his movements, before continuing to bandage Sam’s arm. “What is it?” He said, voice shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you doing okay? Your head doesn't hurt anymore?” Sam asked, doing his best to inject his voice with kindness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's… It's ok. I feel a bit fuzzy, like the world is out of focus, but for the most part nothing’s in pain.” Martin began tying a knot at Sam’s elbow, making it a point not to look at Sam’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam searched through his memories, thinking about everything they’d been through together. He was the first to be put in this dreary waiting room, after stupidly forgetting to read the fine print on the contract they’d had him sign. Tyrone and January came after him, and Valerie after them. Becca was added after the four of them had gone through a few trials together. Sam remembered one of Umbrella’s guards had to drag her in kicking and screaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin was the last one to get shoved into this mess with the rest of them. He looked so scared and confused. Almost like he thought he was walking toward his execution. Then again, he kinda was, wasn't he? Once the wall sealed itself behind him, Martin looked at the rest of the group, and then immediately fixated on the floor. January was the one to finally get him talking, pointing at some sort of mechanical toy he’d been playing with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin perked up immediately, but it still took a bit of coaxing to get him to open up to the group. There was one thing Martin never told them though. Sam was already asking the question before he could stop himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you do to end up in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin froze, the knot for the bandage finished and tucked into Sam’s elbow so that it didn't get in the way of anything. His eyebrows scrunched together, and he looked back down at the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you want to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam suddenly felt extremely guilty. “I’m sorry, it's just, I guess I realized there was a lot about you I didn't know so I just… I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin finally glanced at Sam’s face, the boy’s eyes shining through the dark curls of his now dried hair. Sam wanted to know what he was thinking. He wanted to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> Martin thinks. Which was a bit of a shock to Sam, as he didn't even fully understand how he himself thinks. Martin looked back down at his hands, a few drops of ointment stuck to his fingers, despite his best efforts. He wiped it off on his pants as he began to talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I saw something I wasn't supposed to. Isn't that how we all ended up here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really. I didn't see anything screwy. I was just an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? You’re not an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam smiled a bit at Martin’s encouragement, but didn't acknowledge it. “Well, my boxing career was ending a bit earlier than I’d wanted it to. Some guy, I guess he was from Umbrella, approached me with an offer. Join in on some shady medical trial, and I could get twice as strong without even trying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, even I know there's no such thing as a shortcut.” Martin said, trying his best to not make it sound like an insult. Sam laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What choice did I have though? I wasn't winning enough matches to stay in the game. Signing that contract was like my last chance to get the life I wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanted a life where guys with biceps as big as watermelons hit you in the face?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Close. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted to be the guy with biceps as big as watermelons hitting </span>
  <em>
    <span>other </span>
  </em>
  <span>guys in the face. The biggest I could get though was like an orange or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you said you signed a contract?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. Fine print said they could throw me in here. I had no idea until, well, until they threw me in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ. That can't be legal though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either way, I’m here, aren’t I?” Martin couldn't help but look at Sam, his dark eyes clouded with regret, as he ran his good hand through his light brown hair and smiled back at Martin. “Besides, it's not all bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, we swapping origin stories?” January said, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Martin. “Should I tell mine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, nobody wants to hear about you and your epic hacker skillz,” Tyrone said, sitting by Sam and patting him on the back. “Which clearly weren’t that epic since you got caught.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and you’re better mister fireman? You got kidnapped. While you were putting out a fire. How does that happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It gets very chaotic when a house is burning down! People are running all over the place!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re built like a tank, though.” Valerie said, returning from the shower with a towel on her shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re one to talk, Val. You were right in there with the rest of them! How did you screw it up?” Ty said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie puffed her cheeks out and took a comb from her bag, brushing out the water and knots from her hair. “Whatever. Let’s just be glad we aren’t Becca.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>attacked!</span>
  </em>
  <span> By zombie dogs! How do none of you have any sympathy for me?!” Becca yelled, a cookie stuffed in her mouth as she hurried over and sat next to Tyrone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That better not be the last cookie,” Valerie said, sitting next to January and fixing Becca with a glare as the park ranger smiled innocently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you, sweetie?” Becca asked Martin, trying to divert attention from herself. “I ain’t sure you ever told us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he doesn't want to say he doesn't have to,” Sam said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's okay… It’s just that…” Martin looked at the camera, a whirring sound audible as it zoomed in on the group, now sat in a circle as if they were kindergartners. The rest of the group understood immediately, and January winked at Martin as she pulled out her PDA. All it took was a few taps, and the camera was down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got about a minute, Martin. Better make it the short version.” January said, smiling at the mechanic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin swallowed, scooted a bit closer to the group, and beckoned them all to lean in. They did, and the teen took a deep breath. “I think I found a way out of here,” He whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group’s eyes all widened as they processed Martin’s words. Valerie especially seemed shocked. No doubt, given her time at Umbrella, she had assumed the company would have made certain that every possible way out was sealed or heavily guarded. The fact that Martin had somehow found a weak spot showed that they were getting sloppy. Maybe even sloppy enough for them to escape. But there was just one problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When? Where? How?” January asked. “Like, what the fuck?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw a vent grate earlier, in area three. It looked pretty flimsy. It's not a very concrete plan, I know, but it's not like we have any others.” Martin explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, Back to the Future! You’re just stealing all the thunder today ain’t ya?” Sam said, using his good arm to reach across and ruffle Martin’s hair. Normally, Martin would try to escape from a show of affection like that. He didn't.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Martin said, staring down at his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, sweetie, what’s wrong? All we gotta do is get into that vent and crawl out to safety, right? You’ve basically saved us all, why ya all sad?” Becca asked, trying to get Martin to meet her eyes so she could smile at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s not that simple, and he knows it.” Valerie began. “Have you forgotten the rules in this place? Only four in a trial. No more, no less.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group’s smiles all fell upon hearing Valerie’s words. They fell even more when Martin next spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s more,” He said, removing the crumpled note from his pocket and showing it to the others. They didn't speak. Valerie adjusted her glasses as she re-read the note, thinking over what it meant. January pulled out her PDA as the camera began to reboot. Tyrone got up and began to pace around the room. Becca chewed on her nails. Sam stared at Martin. Martin stared at the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found it with the supplies. I wasn't sure if I should tell you guys, but I’m not sure I could have kept it from you all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Tyrone said. “Shit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do we do?” January asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s obvious isn't it? We decide who’s leaving.” Valerie said. “I don't like it either, but what else can we do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can…” Tyrone tried to argue, but he knew there was no other choice. “Fine. Fine. Where do we start?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well one thing’s for sure,” Sam began. “Martin’s going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? But I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No buts, Brainiac. You’re the one who saw that vent. You deserve to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait just a second-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam’s right, Martin.” January said, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin still wasn't sure, but he kept quiet. Sam took a deep breath, and stood up, his good hand on his hip as the other hung limp at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you guys don't have to listen to me, but I’ll tell you guys what I think should happen. Tyrone and I will stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what?” Ty said. “I didn't sign up for this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of us did, T. But you and I have the best chance of surviving until they get help,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam-” Martin said, but he was drowned out by Valerie voicing her own opinion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to disagree. Tyrone would come in handy during our escape. I doubt Umbrella will let us go easily. Sam and Becca should stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me? Who do you think you are, little miss chemistry?” Becca said, spitting venom at Valerie. “Y'all are gonna take this number spewing desk clerk over somebody who can shoot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, guys, let’s just calm down,” January said, trying to keep the peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing she said reached the group’s ears, however. They were all arguing, the conversation growing heated. Martin looked at the camera. If Umbrella heard any of this, they would be screwed. He had to do something. Making two people hate him was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was either that, or let their last hope get stolen away by the nightmarish corporation that put them there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough!” Martin shouted, silencing the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They looked at him. Probably surprised by the force of his voice. Martin wasn't sure he’d ever yelled that loudly before. He took a breath and braced himself. He wasn't sure how they would react to his decision, but he had to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tyrone and Becca are staying. I’m sorry you two, but… I think its our best chance. January can hack cameras, Valerie is good with medicine, and Sam is… Well, Sam. I can't imagine us getting out of here without him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam opened his mouth, almost like he wanted to protest, but one look from Martin’s bright blue eyes left him speechless. He wasn't sure what he saw. What feeling swam in those big blue pools of emotion? He wanted to know. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know. And he never would if he stayed here. It was alright to be selfish, just this once. Wasn't it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca tried to argue more, but Tyrone knew it was pointless. Eventually, the rest of the group ate whatever food was left, showered, and prepared to sleep. It was difficult sometimes. The walls never got any dimmer. They’d all gotten used to it a little bit, but this time, nobody slept. All they could do was try not to move. Try not to expend any energy and let their bodies rest as much as possible. They’d need it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tomorrow, they escape.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, thank you for reading! Leave a comment and all that if you like, and have a great day!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Goodbyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Not the best way to say goodbye, but there are worse. Right?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>January was the first to wake up. Well, first to <em> get </em> up. They were all awake. They never slept. How could they when escape could be just a single vent grate away? How could Tyrone and Becca, when escape was that close, but they couldn't reach it? January wondered if she would be the one staying instead if she hadn’t grown so close to Martin. That kind of thinking wouldn't help anybody though, so she got up, and started her morning routine.</p><p>Whereas Sam started his days with push-ups or Becca with yoga, January started her days with her PDA in her hands. It wasn't quite the same as her computer back home, but it was better than nothing. A few taps of her stylus and she was playing chess. A few more, and she was taking notes about camera movements and such. Sometimes she liked to EMP the cameras, just for fun. The thought of some douchebag Umbrella researcher swearing at the static screen always cracked her up.</p><p>It wasn't long before the sound of her stylus tapping and buttons pressing made the others stir as well. Valerie yawned and rubbed her eyes, putting her glasses on and pulling her hood over her head. She always was cold in the mornings. Sam sat up and hesitantly checked his arm, before calling Valerie over to look at it for him. Tyrone started doing sit-ups, and Becca crossed her legs as if meditating. Martin just hugged his knees to his chest and shrunk into the corner.</p><p>The atmosphere was tense. Tyrone and Becca didn't look at anyone but each other, Tyrone’s workout getting angrier by the second and Becca’s monk act seeming more and more passive-aggressive. Eventually, Sam being Sam, he broke the silence.</p><p>“Holy shit!” He shouted, marveling at his arm, which was now devoid of all blood, boils, and pockets of melted flesh. “It’s like nothing ever happened!”</p><p>“Umbrella really has made some miraculous products,” Valerie said. “If only they’d use their powers for good, maybe we wouldn't be here.”</p><p>“Something tells me super healing cream doesn't really give them the big bucks,” January said.</p><p>“Really? I would think something like that would make millions,” Martin said.</p><p>“Sure, it would, but in the long run? Nah. They’ll make way more for way longer if they keep creating viruses and monsters.”</p><p>“Bloodshed never goes out of style,” Becca said, breaking her silence. Tyrone stopped his workout and sat up, arm resting upon his knee as he caught his breath. “Manslaughter is almost as popular.”</p><p>January’s brow twitched as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. She hated that self-righteous attitude. January understood Martin’s body language better than the rest of the group. Partly because he reminded her so much of herself. She knew how it felt to lack confidence in yourself. To constantly be afraid of how other people felt about you. To be so afraid of disappointing others that you do everything you can to please them.</p><p>January grew out of that. Martin hadn’t quite gotten there yet. Even so, the kid was doing what January never would have been able to do. He realizes that if they don't escape, they’re as good as dead. And if they’re all dead, it doesn't matter if he disappoints them. Even so, Martin didn't need people like Becca, who’d never gone through what he is, to make him feel like garbage. Martin was probably doing that on his own.</p><p>An assertion that was validated as he curled tighter in on himself, all but gluing his eyes to the tips of his shoelaces.</p><p>“We get it, Becca,” Jan said as she stepped in front of Martin, attempting to shield him from her glare. “You can go back to giving us the silent treatment.”</p><p>“Well, I must say, no one’s ever told me to shut up so politely before,” The park ranger said, her slow, southern drawl dripping with sarcasm.</p><p>“Oh, well, maybe I should say something less polite to get the point across.”</p><p>“Alright, alright guys, that’s enough,” Tyrone said.</p><p>“The hell you mean that’s enough, Ty? You really just gonna give up?” Becca asked, finally standing up from her faux meditation.</p><p>“I’m not happy either, Becca. But remember who the real bad guy is,” The fireman said, looking pointedly at the camera resting in the corner.</p><p>It stared back at the group, whirring as it zoomed in and out, attempting to fit them all into its view. It must have been difficult, with Tyrone and Becca sitting so far away from the others. January was suddenly very glad she didn't say anything particularly incriminating, and that nobody else had either. She still thought Becca was a bitch, but at the very least, she didn't hate them so much she would ruin their plan. After all, if she did, she wouldn't even have the hope of them coming back for her.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Martin said. “I just… If I didn't… Say what I did, then…” It was a bit hard to hear him when he was talking into his knees, but they all understood. More or less.</p><p>Nobody really knew what to say to that. No doubt Becca had plenty to say, but thankfully she kept quiet. Sam looked like he wanted to comfort Martin, but wasn't sure what to do. January shot him a glance, and he nodded back in thanks, walking across the room to talk to Tyrone. Probably saying goodbye to his best bro friend. January never did understand that type of friendship.</p><p>Then again, she rarely understood friendship in the first place. People were often messy and unpredictable. They barely had the capacity to know themselves, so how could they know others? She saw it as a miracle they’d survived this long. Computers, on the other hand, weren’t anywhere near as complicated. Computers couldn't lie to her. Computers couldn't do anything somebody else didn't tell them to. Maybe someday they would, if science fiction novels were to be believed, but that wouldn't be a reality for decades.</p><p>Computers weren’t friends though, no matter how much she wished they could be. That’s one reason she liked Martin so much. They both wished machines could be their friends for one reason or another. January approached Martin’s corner and squeezed in next to him. He didn't welcome her with open arms, instead shrinking away from her a bit. But he didn't try to push her away either, so she stayed put.</p><p>They sat there in silence for a few seconds, January letting Martin come to terms with her presence before she spoke. “You know you have nothing to apologize for, right?” January said, keeping her voice low as to not let Umbrella hear them.</p><p>“Maybe there’s some way to save them,” Martin whispered. “If I can just think, if I can just notice something I hadn’t before, like I did with Trenchy, maybe I can save them, too.”</p><p>“First of all, you did enough. It’s not your fault you can't do everything perfectly in a situation this fucked up. Second, tell me about what happened, please? I’m upset I didn't get to see you be all badass for the first time in your life.” She said, elbowing Martin’s side with a smile.</p><p>Her gesture managed to make him chuckle a bit. “I’m not badass. How do you even know about that?”</p><p>“Believe it or not, Becca was singing your praises last night. You know, before… Well, anyway. Tell me. I wanna know.”</p><p>“It’s hard to explain…”</p><p>“Try anyway. I’m pretty smart you know.”</p><p>Martin chuckled again, relaxing the slightest bit. “Honestly, I’m not sure what happened myself. It all happened so fast, but I remember it all so clearly, as if time slowed down.”</p><p>“Elaborate a bit please?” January said, curiosity growing.</p><p>“I don't know if it was the adrenaline, or what, but it was like everything suddenly got so much… clearer. Like, it wasn't like what Valerie can do, where she senses stuff in the area. It was like, I saw everything that was going on around me, and instead of getting overwhelmed by the chaos and the noise, I could actually think even better than normal. I saw that Trenchy didn't have much control over his speed, and I saw the big cable on the floor, and I just… <em> knew. </em> I knew exactly what to do.”</p><p>Martin shifted a bit. “Do you think… Could it be the virus?”</p><p>January didn't say anything. She just crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. It was no secret that whatever virus they’d been injected with had special properties. It did things to their bodies. Made the talents they possessed more effective or even gave them new ones. Was that what it was? Some new symptom or side effect?</p><p>“Well, you always did have an issue with overthinking,” January said, smirking at the mechanic.</p><p>“Ha ha, very funny.”</p><p>“Seriously though, even if it is, it doesn't seem to be a bad thing. In fact, it could be really helpful, if you got good at using it.”</p><p>“‘Helpful.’ Yeah, I’m so helpful, letting two of our friends-”</p><p>“It will be fine,” January said, cutting him off. Standing, she stretched her limbs. The hard floor was hell on her muscles. “I’m more worried about us, honestly. We’re the ones who have to go out into that fucked up maze.”</p><p>“Oh, please don't be concerned, Ms. Van Sant. I promise you will be well taken care of under my supervision.”</p><p>The voice reverberated around the room and through the group’s very cores. It seemed to come simultaneously from nowhere and everywhere, and it dripped not with Daniel’s sadistic glee, but with determination, and cold, calculated precision. Martin froze. His arms tightened around his legs until they were so close they looked to be suffocating him. All he could say was a single, simple word.</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>“Well, we all know what’s happening here. Best not to waste any time.”</p><p>One wall of the waiting room slowly slid open to reveal an elevator, hissing sounds assaulting the group’s ears. Sounds like that made them all flinch now, reminding them of the hideous creatures lying in wait. Just a short elevator ride away was something that felt close to hell on earth. Especially with the queen of that hell pulling the strings this time around.</p><p>“Whenever you’re ready, just step into the elevator. Remember, no more and no less than four. I’ll see you all down there~” She said, her voice ringing out and gripping their hearts with icy fear.</p><p>“God, no... “ Valerie muttered, arms hugging her shoulders as she shook with terror. “Not her. Please, not her, not again.”</p><p>“Shit!” Martin shouted, standing and pacing around in a circle. “Shit, shit, shit!”</p><p>Sam was shocked at Martin’s uncommon use of profanity and tried to calm him. “Hey, c’mon, M, it’ll be okay-”</p><p>“Shut up, Sam, okay, you’ve never had to deal with her! You don't know what she’s like!”</p><p>As Martin argued with Sam, Valerie withdrew further within herself, and January attempted to snap her out of it. Although, her voice was wavering as well. Tyrone somehow managed to hold it together for the most part, and Becca rolled her eyes at the group.</p><p>“Good lord, y’all are pathetic.”</p><p>“Fuck off, Becca,” January snapped. “You’re faker than your accent.”</p><p>“Yeah, like I’m gonna take insults from a knock off black hat seriously.”</p><p>“You just can't stand not being the center of attention, can you?” </p><p>“You want me to tell you what I can't stand? Because I’ll tell y’all what I can't stand!”</p><p>“That’s enough! Everybody, shut up!” Sam yelled.</p><p>He’d managed to calm Martin down enough to pull him into a hug. Martin did look calmer than before, but now his mind was in turmoil for an entirely different reason. January and Becca quieted, and Valerie looked at Sam, although she was still curled up on the floor.</p><p>“Look, none of us like any part of this, but we’re going to get through it. No matter what, we are going to get through, because no matter what, we are, and always will be a team. Nothing is going to change that. Alright?”</p><p>Becca scoffed. “Whatever.”</p><p>Tyrone said nothing, but nodded at Sam, who nodded back. The others all began to calm down and prepared to leave. Soon, they were stepping into the elevator, Valerie smiling at Martin as she took shaky steps in front of him. Just as Martin entered himself, Becca called out to him.</p><p>“Hey, Marty,” She said, her voice neutral.</p><p>“Y-yes..?”</p><p>Becca fixed him with a look, one arm on her hip, the other giving him the finger. Despite that, her next words weren’t angry or hostile. In fact, they seemed almost caring, blunt as they were.</p><p>“Don't die before I get to shoot you.” She said as the doors slid closed between them.</p><p>“Interesting...,” The mastermind whispered, as she watched the four survivors in the elevator. </p><p>She wondered what it was about. She had been told about the few minutes when January disabled the cameras in the waiting room the previous night. When they had finally come back online, the whole group seemed tense and displeased with each other. What could have happened between them in that short period of time? And even more importantly, how will it affect her test results? She was excited to see. After all, this virus was her baby. Well, the more important one, at any rate.</p><p>Behind her, a monster let out a horrific, guttural roar, desperate to be freed. Desperate to wreak havoc. The mastermind turned, and smiled at the creature, its giant, mutated eye staring back at her.</p><p>“Don't talk to me like that. You’ll get to go out soon, I promise.”</p><p>It roared again, banging on the wall between them as it looked through the narrow slit at her. It almost seemed to recognize her, but was soon banging again, trying to get to her.</p><p>“You’ll get to do whatever you want to them soon. You know I would do anything for you,” She said, as she stood and walked to the wall, placing her hand on the cold reinforced steel. </p><p>“I love you… William.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, slightly shorter chapter this time, but it was either this or an ungodly long chapter that nobody could reasonably be expected to read. Don't worry, the next one will come soon. Hopefully within the next few days. Anyhow, thank you again for reading! If you enjoyed it, feel free to comment, and keep your eyes open for the next chapter! (Which WILL be soon, I swear.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. First Escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, yes, I know this chapter is super duper late. I am ashamed to say I have no excuse other than anxiety and general disillusionment at how insane the world is. Also writer's block is a BITCH. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator seemed to be laughing at them as its doors slid open with a ding. Sam was unsurprisingly the first to leave, knowing that every second they took to prepare was another second Annette had to lay traps or flood the maze with monsters. The rest of the group took a few more seconds to collect themselves, but eventually, they followed, exploring the room for weapons and other useful items.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was always how it started. They got one room. One place of comfort and safety to prepare for the horrors that awaited them. Once they left, the door would lock behind them, and they’d be forced to make do with whatever they could scrounge up in each area. Sometimes they’d find herbs or sprays, sometimes ammo, and on rare occasions, there might be a better weapon to use.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all had weapons they preferred, but they didn't always get to choose. Weapons weren’t allowed in the waiting room. The door wouldn't open until they’d thrown whatever they were carrying into a garbage chute. It always made the next trial that much more terrifying, never knowing if they’d be gifted with a shotgun or a peashooter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mine!” January shouted, picking up a machine gun from a metal table and throwing the strap over her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie picked up a dinky pistol and shoved it into her hoodie pocket, the weight of it making her face sour with disdain. Sam found a shotgun resting against the wall, as well as a loose plank of wood he promptly ripped off said wall. Valerie shot him a look, but he paid it no mind, instead turning to Martin to see how he was doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mechanic was kneeling in front of a cabinet, his hands shaking furiously as he searched through the drawers for anything of use. He pulled out a box of ammo, moving to put it in his backpack, but the flap opened. The bullets inside fell out and scattered across the floor. Martin stared at them, his hand clenching around the small cardboard box, crushing it in the process. He threw it across the room, cursing as he did so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damnit!” Martin yelled. “God fucking damnit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, c'mon M, calm down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don't</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell me to calm down, Sam! You have no idea what I’m feeling right now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't, huh? How do you figure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re cool and confident and thrive under pressure! I’m a jittery, cowardly five-foot-nine mess at the best of times! Now, we have to go out there, and deal with… with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her!</span>
  </em>
  <span> You don't know how it feels to be so terrified, Sam! You don't-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin’s rambling was cut short by Sam’s hand grabbing his and pressing it flat against his chest. Martin wasn't quite sure how to react. Aside from the firm, sturdy muscle underneath Sam’s shirt, Martin noticed something else. It was hard to feel through all of the layers of cloth, skin, and muscle, but it was still noticeable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel that?” Sam asked. “Like some guy is playing a drum solo in my chest? I’m scared too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… But you… You always seem so brave. Like- like nothing affects you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had a lot of practice. And you know, you’re pretty brave too,” Sam said, giving Martin his best reassuring smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin, with some reluctance, pulled his hand away from Sam’s chest, bringing it to his own. He stared down at his fingers as they kneaded themselves into the fabric of his shirt. Martin could feel his own heart beating in his chest, pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears as blood rushed to his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not. I’m a coward. I’m scared of everything,” Martin said, his anxiety and embarrassment rising to the surface, bringing him nearly to tears. “I’m pathetic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bravery doesn't mean you’re not afraid,” Sam said. Martin didn't dare look at anything other than the floor, but he listened as he took deep breaths to get his emotions under control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bravery isn't about not letting anything affect you, or not caring about anything. People always think that, but it's bullshit. Bravery is about pushing through your fear. It’s about facing it and coming out stronger on the other side. It’s about doing your best despite every part of you screaming to run away and don't look back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam closed the arm’s worth of distance between them and placed his hand on Martin’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You say you’re scared of everything? Well, then that makes you the bravest out of all of us. So what do you think? Can you be brave until this is all over?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin took one more deep breath, steeling his nerves, and met Sam’s eyes. “I can. I can be brave. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was it. That was the moment. It was with Martin staring up at Sam with big blue eyes. It was with Martin’s look of sheer willpower and determination. It was with a mere three inches of height between them that Sam realized. He realized why he cared so much. He realized exactly what it was about this nineteen-year-old kid that drew him in so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit, Sam thought. I think I'm in love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How touching. I could just vomit,” Annette said, her voice crackling over the speakers. It did little to make the group falter, however. Martin, in particular, found his footing, turning to the camera mounted over the exit and addressing the mastermind directly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-throw whatever you want at us, Annette! W-we aren’t giving in so easily!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you… In-bread? Mr. Sandwich? Because you certainly talk like your parents were cousins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin tried to make a rebuttal, but he was too flustered. He was no stranger to people making fun of his last name, but nobody had ever used an insult so… blatant. A gunshot sent a bullet directly through the eye of the camera. The group turned to see Valerie aiming her pistol as if she were a trained shot. The intern lowered the gun, hands shaking ever so slightly, and met Martin’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don't have a cute boy to reassure me and tell me everything will be alright… But I can be brave without one. As long as you guys back me up.” She said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah!” Jan said, clicking off the safety on her machine gun and doing what she probably believed to be a cool pose with it. “Let’s kick this bitch’s ass and get out of here. Rambo style.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, chill out Stallone,” Sam said, cracking a smile for the first time that day. “Back to the Future here still needs a weapon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m good actually,” Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mechanic was back in the cabinet drawers, having pulled out the one at the very bottom. He reached in, carefully removing its contents. The rest of the group watched as he turned, showing off a shining, silver pistol laying heavy in his hands. January whistled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn,” She said. “That is one sexy gun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jan, c’mon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, do you want me to lie? It's a sexy gun Val, just look at it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno about sexy,” Martin said. “But it’s definitely not a toy. I mean, no gun is obviously, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin made certain that the safety was on as he examined the pistol. He wasn't particularly informed when it came to the inner workings of firearms. He could imagine well enough, but he’d never had the time to take one apart and really understand them during the trials. He knew enough to know that this one was different, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lightning Hawk…” He said, speaking the inscription on the gun aloud as he ran his fingers across the lettering. “.50 AE MAG 7-round capacity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“.50 AE? Do we have ammo like that?” Sam asked, scratching his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve never had a gun that uses that ammo type before,” Valerie said. “All we have is 9mm and the usual shotgun shells.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin slid open the clip. “Only three bullets. Think we’ll find any more out there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doubtful, knowing them. I’d wager that’s all we're going to get,” Jan said. “Meaning you’re on reserve, Sandwich. Stay behind us until we need you to shoot something with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin made a face, clearly wishing he could contribute more, but did as he was told. He double-checked that the safety was on as he tucked the pistol into his belt. The last thing he wanted was to get shot in the butt after all. Hopefully, he’d find something else he could use as a weapon out there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four of them shared a look and a nod, one last moment of peace and camaraderie before they entered what would hopefully be their final battle. Sam reached for the doorknob, turning it just enough to open the door a crack and peek out. The room ahead was dark and silent. Sam was about to push the door open all the way when a pair of dead eyes appeared in the space between the door and the frame, gnashing its decaying teeth as it attempted to enter their saferoom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam yanked the door shut before it could get in. “So much for the element of surprise,” He said, backing up slightly before ramming the door open. The zombie was forced back, losing it's already unstable footing and falling to the floor. The group used the opening to exit the safe room and check for any additional threats, Sam leading the charge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam honestly wasn't sure what to expect. Martin was right, Sam had never had the displeasure of dealing with the mastermind known as Annette. For one reason or another, he had never been able to take on one of her trials. In some cases, the Mastermind would select which participants were allowed in a trial, and Annette had made it a point to exclude him from her trials whenever that was an option. Every other time, he’d been either too wounded or too exhausted. In those cases, Tyrone was usually the one to take his place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Often, one or more of their group would return to the waiting room either in tears or completely unresponsive. Valerie, in particular, seemed to be the primary target of whatever Annette did to them. She never spoke to anyone about it though, and the others had learned not to try and talk to her either after one particularly nasty fight between her and January.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of, the hacker was the first to find the light switch, flipping it on and bathing the room in much welcome clarity. It worked just as well for their enemies as it did for them, however, with several zombies spotting them and moving closer. Sam was always disturbed by the way they shambled and shuffled around. One by itself was fairly easy to take down in theory, but the sheer fact that the mere sight of them triggered every possible negative reaction made it that much more difficult.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam averted his eyes from them as much as he could, examining his surroundings. It was the same setting as always, a lab filled with all manner of tools and equipment. Some of the vials left on the counters and shelves still contained what looked to be chemicals of some type or another, making Sam wonder exactly what this place was if it ever really was anything other than a place to put them through Hell. Annette’s voice drifted through the room as the group fought their way through, shooting and avoiding zombies whenever possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to trial number 9581. Your task for this area is to complete the puzzle near the exit door. Doing so will unlock it, and you may proceed to the next area.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy peasy,” Sam said, swinging his two-by-four at a nearby zombie. “Why don't you give us something difficult to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had attempted to taunt Annette. He wanted her to believe that whatever tricks she had up her sleeve wouldn't faze them. The four of them were a unit, and nothing would screw that up. Annette laughed as they went to the only other door in the entire room. It was a laugh that sent chills down Sam’s spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Jordan. This is the first time you’ve taken part in one of my trials. I can't let you get to the end without experiencing true fear. After all, who knows what’s waiting for you beyond each door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam, January, and Valerie all froze, Annette’s words clawing their way into their minds and forcing them to imagine the worst possible scenarios. Was it just a bluff? Was it a threat? Or was it a warning? They all couldn't help but hesitate as they thought of what could be waiting for them past the cold metal of the door. All of them except Martin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s bluffing! This isn't the first time she’s tried to waste our time like this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mechanic rushed ahead, twisting the doorknob and throwing the door open. He stopped as he looked through the now open doorway, his face contorting with an expression of terror as he stared at something the rest of the group could not see. He turned and locked eyes with Sam for a split second. Sam noticed a wet, slithering tendril wrap around Martin’s leg before the lights shut off, and the mechanic screamed as whatever monster was in the next room dragged him in with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette smirked as the group dissolved into chaos. The cameras automatically switched to night-vision mode whenever the lights were turned off, so she saw everything. Whereas other masterminds focused on laying down traps or flooding the room with as many zombies as it could hold, Annette used every resource at her disposal with ruthless efficiency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The key, however, was understanding how each resource affected each other. While it was true that the survivors could not see as well in the dark, neither could zombies. Therefore, the lights should only be disabled when the survivors are already at a severe disadvantage. Either that, or whenever she had a creature who excelled at hunting in the dark at her disposal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lickers are repulsive creatures. Disgusting mutants that are the product of the precious few humans who get infected with a particularly awful strain of the T-Virus. Their skin falls off, their brains expand to the point where they break through the skull, their anatomy is altered to the point that you may not even recognize them as once being Human. They grow long, razor-sharp claws, they begin crawling on all fours, developing the ability to cling onto walls or ceilings to gain an advantage over their prey. And most notably, their tongues grow into long, sticky, tendril-like organs that are so awful to behold that everything else seems tame by comparison. Hence the name ‘Licker’ being the one that managed to persist out of all the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette halted her tangential thought process and returned her attention to the scene unfolding in the testing area. Martin had managed to grab on to the handle of a heavy cargo crate and was screaming rather embarrassingly as the Licker struggled to drag him along with the crate. The rest of the group was doing their best to help, however, their eyes had yet to adjust, so it was a bit of a shitshow if she was being honest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette grabbed the microphone, crossed her legs, and flipped her blonde hair to the side as she put on her best apologetic voice. It wasn't very convincing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, poor Mr. Sandwich, caught by a creature of his very nightmares. If only you had taken my warning seriously, perhaps this never would have happened. Well, no matter. All that’s left now is to wait for your inevitable discomfort, dismemberment, death, and eventually, digestion as the monster devours whatever remains of your corpse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin screamed even louder as the licker yanked him back a few feet more, clearly impatient to consume the poor child. Annette suppressed the slight twinge of guilt she felt at how horribly she was going after Martin. This was the job, however, and Martin was of particular interest in this experiment. Beyond the fact that his easily terrified nature gave them extremely valuable data, he was the only obvious avenue for terrifying a particularly frustrating boxer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martin! Just hang on, I’m coming! Remember, be brave!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How am I supposed to be brave when I’m about to be eaten you asshole?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam supposed he deserved that. It was his fault Martin was in this situation, to begin with. The kid was just trying to be brave like Sam had asked. If Sam hadn’t given him that stupid goddamn speech, Martin wouldn’t have thrown open that door. He wouldn't be in danger. Sam continued to feel along the wall for the light switch. When he finally found it, he smiled. The smile faded as he flipped it and turned, observing for the first time what was attacking Martin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam saw the tongue first. He followed the length of it to the rest of the creature, watching as it growled and hissed, the strain of Martin’s struggle taking its toll. Sam’s eyes drifted over its disgusting body. The exposed brain, the lack of eyes, the awful way it moved, contorting like some circus freak to achieve whatever position it needed. He finally settled on its impossibly long claws and razor-sharp teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one second, one horrible, horrendous, heart-stopping second, Sam imagined what would happen if he couldn’t save Martin. He imagined the monster tearing into him as he screamed, his blood splattering and pooling all around him as those teeth buried themselves into his neck, his chest, his entire body. The image made Sam furious, but more than that, it made him scared. No, worse than that, it made him </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The idea that he might have to live in a world without Martin wasn't something he could comprehend. It wasn't even something he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s hands turned into fists, his knuckles going white and splinters digging into his left hand as it wrapped around the piece of wood he was holding. He couldn't tell exactly what he was feeling. He couldn't tell exactly what was happening anymore to be honest. All he could register was the image of Martin’s lifeless corpse being consumed by that freak of nature over, and over, and over again until…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snapped the piece of wood in two. He ran to Martin, positioning himself next to the monster’s tongue, and used the sharpest edge of the wood he had to cut it in half by slamming it down onto the tongue as hard as he could. The part that was still attached returned to the creature like a slingshot, the clear pain of it causing the thing to scream and flail as Martin desperately kicked off the other piece, still clinging to his ankle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam didn't stop there, however. In fact, he was only getting started. With his only melee weapon broken, he let his instincts take over, rushing the monster and assaulting it with a desperate barrage of fists. An image again flashed in Sam’s mind, but it wasn't of Martin. This time, it was of the creature, battered, beaten, and bloody on the floor. Red liquid splattered on the walls and pooling around its lifeless remains, what it might’ve done to Martin done to it instead. The image was just so perfect, Sam couldn't help himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned. Hell, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin and the others watched in silence as Sam relentlessly beat the monster single-handedly. He punched, kicked, choked, and bashed the thing’s head against whatever surface was hardest. Martin, of course, was glad that it was nearly gone, its previously terrifying screams now turned to groans and gurgles as it died. However, Martin couldn't stop staring at Sam. He couldn't stop thinking about how… </span>
  <em>
    <span>giddy</span>
  </em>
  <span> he looked. Martin could never understand why Sam wanted to be a boxer so badly. Fighting was never something he saw as good in any capacity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam clearly felt different, though. Sam was loving this. That thing could use its claws or teeth or tongue and kill him at any moment, but he was just going at it without a care in the world. Martin wanted to tell him to stop, to calm down, but he was speechless. They all were. Even Annette seemed shocked into silence. Or, so it seemed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In reality, she was monitoring Sam’s, well, everything. His heart rate, his other vitals, his apparent mental state. She couldn't exactly get an exact fix on what was going through his brain, but thanks to the implants they’d all been injected with, she could track not only their locations but also their vitals in general. And what she saw in Sam… Christ, it was incredible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adrenaline, Dopamine, Seratonin, Oxytocin, and more. Sam was terrified, exhilarated, enraged, basically every emotion you can have all at once. Annette could only imagine what kinds of effects this could be having on the virus. First Daniel inspires a mutation in Martin, and now Sam is surely about to develop some new kind of ability. At this rate, they’re only a few steps away from completing their goal. The only question is what kind of ability Sam will-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Annette gasped. “Oh, that is… Incredible…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Martin gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, oh, wow,” Valerie whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I… I’m gonna…” January vomited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam was standing there, panting, caked in the blood of the Licker, grasping it by its head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Its </span>
  <em>
    <span>severed</span>
  </em>
  <span> head. Torn clean off from the thing’s body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam tossed it to the side, watching as it rolled unevenly across the floor. Finally coming down from his high, Sam seemed to finally register what exactly he had done. He looked to the others. Nobody spoke. Sam and Martin locked eyes, and it seemed as though Sam wanted to say something. He couldn't though, as Martin spoke first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” He said. “... Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam wasn't sure if it was fear in Martin’s eyes, or something else. Regardless, they couldn't afford to hash it out. They had much more to accomplish if they wanted to get out of there. Annette wasn't about to let that happen, however.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that was quite the display, Mr. Jordan! Such a burst of speed and strength is unprecedented in any subject we’ve had thus far. I must ask, how did it feel? From the levels of dopamine and other hormones that flooded your system, if I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were having an orgasm.” She said, stretching the last word out as long as she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam didn't respond. Is this what the others were so afraid of? Annette brings your worst flaws to the surface and then never lets you forget them? He suddenly understood their fear. Annette continued to talk, but Sam didn't hear her. Martin held his gaze, forcing Sam to focus on him. Sam still wasn't sure what he saw, but at the very least, Martin wasn't running in fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So that's something, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they found the puzzle pieces, gaining access to the second area. A few minutes later, and another zombie dressed as a security guard had been killed. Taking the key card, Valerie spoke again, echoing the previous day’s events. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That… was even easier than before. I don't like this, you guys. I don't like it at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I recall, Ms. Harmon, you didn't like anything during your brief time at Umbrella. In fact, that’s why you’re here now, isn't it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie froze for a moment, glancing at the nearest camera. Almost as if to plead with the scientist to not reveal her secret. Annette contemplated it, but ultimately, it would only hinder their overall goal with this project.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re correct to be concerned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell does that mean?” Jan asked, reloading her machine gun before killing another zombie. Sam and Martin waited to hear Annette’s response, her laughter ringing out through the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, in the past, the difficulty of this particular task came from finding and killing the zombie with the keycard. But from now on, things will be a bit more difficult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no,” Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are three security terminals scattered throughout this area. Use the keycard to disable them, and then the last area will be unlocked. Good luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie wasn't sure whether she should be happy for Annette’s uncharacteristic moment of mercy, or literally every negative emotion in the book for the added legwork. She always was a slavedriver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wish I’d known that from the start, could have just hacked the terminals and saved us all some ammo,” January complained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Van Sant, but I’m afraid these terminals are very much hack-proof. If one is disabled without the use of a keycard, the exit will stay forever locked, leaving any living creatures inside and flooding the area with the undead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, well, no hacking then,” Valerie said, handing the key to January. “You know computers. You can do it, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, that isn't even a question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>January led the way through the area as they searched for the terminals. Valerie followed, glancing back to see Martin right behind her and Sam much further back. The two had been mostly silent since Sam killed the Licker, and while it didn't seem that Martin was afraid, Sam seemed very much ashamed. He kept his distance from the rest of the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, Valerie wasn't concerned. Sam had attacked the Licker, not them. She doubted that Sam would intentionally hurt them. Valerie was, however, concerned about which side of Sam was at fault for his aggression. Sam tended to punch first and ask questions later, which was helpful during the trials. But she’d never seen him be that savage. Valerie couldn't help but wonder. Was that really Sam, or was that just the virus?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it was Sam, they should all be fine as long as none of them really pissed him off. Even then, she wasn't convinced he would hurt them. But if it was the virus that caused it, what did that mean? Was it just some new ability that Sam had been granted? Or was it a sign of all of their futures? Sam had been the first among the group to be imprisoned and infected, so it makes sense that he would be furthest along in terms of symptom development. Would all of them experience savage episodes like that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie suppressed a shudder, but it didn't matter. Annette noticed anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ms. Harmon, are you alright? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie didn't respond. No matter what she said, Annette would find some way to twist and mock her. Unfortunately, silence didn't make it any more difficult for the mastermind. Annette began to hum. It took a moment for Valerie to realize exactly what the tune was, and when she did, it took every ounce of her strength not to yell, cry, shoot the nearest camera, or otherwise flip the fuck out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I always did love that nursery rhyme. My mother used to sing it to me as a child. It always calmed me down when she had to give me cold medicine. I hated the taste. Still do actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie froze, the color draining from her face. By this point, January had found and deactivated two security terminals, and the group was currently fighting their way through a room filled with zombies to reach the third. Valerie wanted to help, but she couldn't move. All she could think about was the implications of what Annette had just said. All she could think about was her roommate, and one of the last things she’d said to Valerie while she was still lucid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it's like, for the development of some new super medicine, but can't they make it just a little better to drink? It tastes like cold medicine. Yuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't stop herself. Did Annette teach her that song? Valerie had been operating under the assumption that that nursery rhyme was a ray of hope. Some last remnant of her roommate’s psyche that suggested she wasn't completely gone. She could still be saved. But if she was just repeating what Annette had taught her, then…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The snapping of Sam’s shotgun brought her back to the present. January had unlocked the final terminal and was running toward the exit, grabbing Valerie’s hand on the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now’s not the time to daydream, V! C’mon, we’re almost finished!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! It’s cute that you think that,” Annette laughed, as they all piled into the elevator.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group caught their breaths, and January turned to Valerie, intending to ask if she was alright. Valerie shrugged her off, though. Dwelling on it wouldn't help. They had much more present and much more life-threatening concerns to deal with. Martin watched the lights in the elevator shaft grow and dim in intensity through the fogged glass, their direction still obscured by some optical illusion he couldn't quite figure out. Sam was in the same position he was the day before, only this time he was tapping his foot impatiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden, he stopped, taking a deep breath and finally collecting himself. He wanted nothing more than to stay the metaphorical outcast of the group. He hated himself. After all his effort to keep that side of him in check, it was all rendered moot for… What? Some stupid monster? A few shotgun shells to the head and it would be just as dead, so why did he have to snap like that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could work it out later. They only had a few more seconds in the elevator. They had to figure out their next step as soon as possible. Sam turned to Martin, doing his best not to let his voice waver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, M,” He said, doing his best not to look hurt when the mechanic jumped a bit at the sound of his voice. “Have you figured out where we go from here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jan said. “How do we even get into the vent in the first place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin averted his eyes. He looked embarrassed. He does have a plan, right? Sam thought, a small surge of panic showing on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-well, uh… I’m obviously too short to reach it, but… well, if you could maybe give me a lift, Sam..?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>… Ohhh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam couldn't help the laughter that erupted from his lungs. He felt a little bad, but Jan was laughing too, so at least she would share in the blame. Martin made a pouty face, but he knew their laughter was the friendly kind, so he wasn't upset. That said, he didn't really like it either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about the cameras?” Valerie asked. “Annette will see us, won't she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“January can disable them, but it doesn't give us that much time. We’ll have to be fast. Hopefully, there won't be too many zombies in the way, or it’ll be even tougher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No offense Martin, but that isn't the most solid plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said it was. But it’s either that or the alternative, and nobody likes the alternative.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On that, they could all agree. It was all or nothing now. The elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open. Annette’s voice once more assaulted their eardrums, taunting them with faux admiration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations. You’ve made it to the third and final area of this maze. Your objective is the same as before. Please, Mr. Jordan, do try not to deform yourself this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not quite the same, actually,” Jan whispered, using an EMP to disable all cameras in range as they exited the elevator.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hahaha, that won't help you…” Annette teased. “All I need are a few seconds and then these cameras will be back online."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She means a few as in thirty, so work fast you two."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't worry Jan, this shouldn't take long. Uh… Sam? You coming?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, coming.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam followed Martin as he led the way to the vent grate. Sure enough, there it was. Just out of reach of Sam, above the entryway to the rest of the area. Sam stepped up behind Martin, suddenly feeling very flustered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how do you want to uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno,” Martin said, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “I guess just, do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn't help much, but Sam supposed that was the best option considering their lack of time. Martin adjusted his backpack so that it was hanging from his front, the pocket containing his tools open slightly. Sam did his best not to think about the pale skin beneath Martin’s clothes as he grasped the mechanic by the waist. Martin made a little yelp as Sam, admittedly, lifted him up a </span>
  <em>
    <span>tad</span>
  </em>
  <span> too forcefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>January laughed at the sight of them, Martin’s arms and legs curling around his backpack in midair, and Sam doing his best to look everywhere other than right in front of him. Valerie used her pistol to shoot a zombie that had heard them and ventured around the corner in search of its next meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jan, how much longer do we have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twenty seconds or so. You two doing alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won't budge. I’ll have to remove the screws.” Martin said, a flashlight between his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make it fast, M!” Jan said, shooting the legs off a zombie to cripple it and force it to crawl at a snail’s pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost finished repairing…” Annette said. “I do hope you’re excited. I have a very special surprise for you all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit. Please don't be another Trenchy.” Sam said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I know Annette, whatever she has planned will make us </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish</span>
  </em>
  <span> we had to deal with Trenchy instead,” Val said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just ten more seconds or so…” Annette taunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martin!” Jan shouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't rush me, I’m almost done!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette stared at the static screen of her monitor. She couldn't see the survivors, and all she could hear were their gunshots and a few muffled words from other cameras throughout the area. She didn't expect them to have so much trouble with the three or four zombies she’d placed near the entrance, but no matter. She was still receiving data, and that was all she cared about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five…” She spoke into the microphone, hearing a few shouts from the survivors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Four…” She continued, leaning towards the monitor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three…” Her hands were hovering over the controls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two…” Just one more second, one more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cameras flickered back to life, showing… Nothing. Annette stared a moment, her brain trying to process exactly what she was seeing. Or, more accurately, what she wasn't. She looked at the other cameras. Nothing. She looked at every camera in the area. Nothing. Just a few zombies crawling and puttering around. She looked at the first camera, one last time, searching for the answer. And she found it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A vent grate, dangling helplessly, barely holding on by one screw in the bottom right corner. Annette watched it swing back and forth, the cameras managing to pick up the slight creaking sound it made. The screw came loose, the grate dropping to the floor and making a banging sound that finally snapped the scientist out of her shock and denial. It was clear what had happened now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daniel fucked up. He left an escape route. Now she’d have to do everything she could to clean up his mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette didn't waste time shouting expletives or breaking things, she immediately pressed the big red button labeled “Emergency Outbreak Protocol.” An alarm rang out, and all the lights in the entire facility turned a deep, bloody red. Everybody knew from that sound and color that before those things turned off, something or someone would have to die or be contained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blaring alarm sent the monster behind her into a panic. It wanted out. It wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>blood.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Annette was more than happy to oblige.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you’re ready, my love. You’ve got a job to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The survivors were crawling through the vent system as fast as they could. The alarm only grew louder as it echoed through the shafts, and the blood-red lights shone through other grates as they moved past. Martin led the way, by virtue of he was already up there. Him getting down to let someone else go first only would have wasted time. Sam was in the back since he was the only one of them who was tall enough to get up on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the fact that Sam was still very much covered in monster blood, being so far away from him put Martin on edge. That, combined with the fact that not only are they in completely unknown territory, but Martin would be the first to encounter any sort of danger, was more or less giving the kid a full-on panic attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin did his best to keep his breathing under control and kept moving. He looked through each grate they passed, trying to find an empty room where they could regroup. He saw scientists rushing around, armed guards with all manner of weaponry, and a few of Umbrella’s other experiments. He nearly fainted when he saw what looked to be a massive mutated plant pick up a man in a hazmat suit and slam him against a large glass window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Note to self, Martin thought. Get some herbicide, ASAP.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that place!” Valerie said as she peeked through the grate after Martin had kept going. “That’s the greenhouse!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don't tell me we have to go in there,” Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’d rather not get eaten by plant monsters.” Jan agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s not the point! I know where we are! This whole time I figured we were in some remote location I didn't know about, but we’re not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we then?” Sam asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NEST.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ffffffuuuuuucccckkk me,” Jan moaned. “Of course. Of fucking course its NEST.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s NEST?” Sam asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, don't tell us if it's bad,” Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s basically Umbrella’s main facility for fucked up shit. Every awful thing they’re responsible for at one point spent time at NEST.” Jan explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group didn't speak. They just contemplated the reality of the situation. It was finally dawning on them that all the cards were stacked in their opponent’s favor. If they wanted to get out of this alive, they were going to have to really bring their A-game. Finally, they found a room that was more or less empty. All it contained was one employee staring at a computer monitor wearing headphones. The lights were off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As far as Martin could tell, this employee had no idea the facility was in a state of emergency. He turned to face the others as best he could and signaled for them to be quiet. He pried the grate off, trying to make as little noise as possible, and failing when the grate fell to the floor. Thankfully, the employee didn't hear, and the group was able to drop into the room without further incident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now what? Do we just leave, or…? Martin trailed off, hearing footsteps beyond the door. As they receded, January spoke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet that computer has lots of useful info.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No doubt about it,” Val said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, how do we get him away from it?” Martin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>January gingerly raised her gun, giving the mechanic a look. Martin shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beyond the fact that this guy has done nothing wrong, if we shoot him, anybody could hear us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't like it either, Martin,” Valerie said. “But do we have any other choice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could try something,” Sam said. “I’ve never actually done it before, but it might work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What might work?” Martin asked, but Sam was already walking toward the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam grabbed the man, wrapping his elbow around his neck and squeezing tight. The man was surprised and tried to fight back, but it wasn't very long before his movements slowed, and he eventually went limp. Sam put him back in the chair and pushed him a few feet away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you… Is he…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't worry, M. He’s fine. Just unconscious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleeper hold. It’s more of a wrestling thing than a boxing thing, so I’d never really gotten the chance to try it out, but it works pretty well, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did great, Sam. January, find anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… So, you want the good news, or the bad news?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about the good news with no bad news?” Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good news is- oh, wait. Nevermind, the good news just got blocked off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was the good news?” Valerie asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The exit was still open, but they just sealed it. So now I have no idea how to get out of this place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was the bad news?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There were a bunch of guards guarding the exit, they went somewhere else though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there any way to open the exit back up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not unless you have a few pounds of dynamite or something that can cause an equivalent amount of force.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going to find something like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait a second. Something’s happening,” January said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something good, or something bad?” Sam asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something weird. All the guards are going somewhere with all the employees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are they not looking for us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea what they’re doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette’s voice cut through the alarm, reaching their ears and making their backs go stiff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Attention test subjects one, two, four, and six. You have exactly thirty seconds to make your location known. If you do not comply with this demand, we will assume you are hostile and non-compliant, and your lives will be forfeit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group looked at each other, asking each other the same question. They all knew the answer, though. January typed on the keyboard, grabbed a microphone, and spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don't really think we’re that stupid, Annette. Do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette had not moved from the control room. She didn't have to. Every computer in the facility was on the same network, so as long as you had the appropriate credentials, you could access anything from anywhere. She wished she could just send the security team after them, but whoever made those implants they’d injected them with made the completely idiotic decision to only program them to work within the confines of the maze. She was just as powerless as the rest of the facility, and that made her angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well,” she said. “If you want to die as martyrs, who am I to refuse? Just don't say I didn't give you an out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The survivors looked at each other as Annette’s voice cut out. Sam went to the door, the others close behind him, and peeked out into the hallway. Nothing. They left the room, slowly looking around. They saw no cameras but decided to keep their guard up, just to be safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin stayed close to Sam, and vice versa. Sam was glad for it. It was hard for him to explain, but making sure Martin got out of this unharmed was a goal that motivated him just as much as escaping himself. It drove him forward. He hadn’t had the chance to really think about his earlier revelation. He wasn't sure how to process it. His whole life, he thought he knew exactly what he was. Sure, maybe he’s not the brightest lamppost on the street, but he could still light the way just fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he had no idea what he was doing. This was a part of himself he didn't know existed. An idea he’d never contemplated. How does he go about navigating this road? He had no clue, and this probably wasn't the best time to self-reflect, but he couldn't stop himself. Thankfully, Martin did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you guys… Hear that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They froze, listening for any sound that seemed abnormal. It was difficult to catch, that stupid alarm was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> blaring, but eventually, they heard it. It was sort of a scraping sound. Like someone was dragging a piece of metal against the floor or wall. Valerie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on the sound. She couldn't quite tell what it was. It felt familiar, however. In fact, it reminded her of…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Birkin?” She whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound stopped. The group took a breath and braced themselves for the worst. They turned a corner, expecting to find it. They didn't. It found them instead. A massive, mutated hand burst through the wall to their right, waving around in an attempt to grab them. Martin screamed, but Sam pulled him away. The hand slapped it's palm against the wall, trying to pull itself forward. Its shoulder broke through the hole, and the four survivors were shocked at the sight before them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A giant eyeball stared back at them from its socket in the monster’s shoulder. It glanced from one of them to another, the pupil dilating in and out with each movement. The muscles in its arm flexed, and the wall began to crack, dust and debris falling to the floor as the thing broke through. Its head came through first, revealing what looked to be a terribly mutated man wearing a lab coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Birkin!?” Valerie shouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Sam, should we run?” Martin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam didn't answer. He just grabbed the mechanic’s hand and bolted down the hall. January did the same with Valerie since the chemist seemed to be in shock at seeing her colleague in such a state. They ran as fast as they could, making it through a door as the creature called Doctor Birkin broke through and ran after them, dragging a big metal pipe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Down one more hall and another door brought them to a massive chamber, distant lights blinked red, and a massive geothermal generator glowed orange beneath them. All of them except Valerie stopped moving. The chemist turned to look at them, sighing at the wondrous looks on their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NEST is built into the Arklay mountains, it’s very big and very impressive, can we please keep running?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door behind them flew off its hinges and fell to the floor. The thing let out a monstrous roar as it tried to fit its mutated form through the doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Running sounds great!” Martin shouted as the group continued across a long walkway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where the hell do we go, though?!” Sam asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie pointed at an elevator in the middle of the chamber. “That leads to a train platform. It's only meant to be used for emergencies, but it should take us wherever we need to go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon reaching the elevator, January attempted to gain access, only to be met with a string of bright red letters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damnit! It’s saying I don't have the right clearance level!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there any way to get clearance?” Martin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’d have it,” Valerie said, pointing at Doctor Birkin as he slowly stumbled toward them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can't be serious!” Jan said. “You want us to fight that thing?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way, we don't have the firepower to fight it. Martin, you have any more of those shock traps?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? … Oh. Yeah, I have two more!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gimme one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin handed Valerie a shock mine, and she placed it a few feet away from the elevator control panel. Backing away, the group looked on as Doctor Birkin moved closer and closer. The pipe he was holding left scrape marks as he dragged it along the floor, step after uneven step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what’s the plan exactly?” Sam asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just be ready to run into the elevator.” Valerie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doctor Birkin stopped moving for a moment. He stared at the group, almost as if he was confused that they’d stopped running. He must not have wanted to look a gift horse in the mouth however, because he charged toward them in the blink of his giant eye. Upon stepping on the shock trap, electricity exploded from the device, coursing through Doctor Birkin’s body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor screamed and roared in pain and anger. Valerie jumped forward grabbing his less mutated arm and placing it against the control panel. The elevator beeped and opened as it detected Doctor Birkin’s wristband, and Valerie released his arm as she ran inside with the rest of the group. January was mashing a button, trying to close the doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They slid shut, and the four of them let out a sigh of relief as the elevator began to move downward. Doctor Birkin could be heard pounding against the doors between him and the elevator shaft, and Martin turned to Valerie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What. The. Hell. Was. That. Thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like a more interesting question is who,” Jan said. “It seemed like you knew him, Val.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie took a deep breath as she ran her fingers across her braids. “That was Doctor  William Birkin. Emphasis on ‘was.’ He used to be the head researcher for the G-virus project. It seems his project took over his life even more than the last time I saw him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait a sec, isn't Birkin Annette’s last name?” Martin wondered aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie nodded. “William is Annette’s husband.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin, Sam, and January all let that information sink in as the elevator sank ever lower into the earth. They looked at each other, wondering if it was possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She wouldn't…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would she..?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be cold blooded, even for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt she would,” Valerie said. “Not knowing how the G-Virus operates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s that?” January asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit, Valerie thought. She screwed up. She’s not supposed to know any specifics. She tried to think fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well, I don't know all the details-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie was saved from exposure as the elevator shook and stopped moving. The four survivors lost their footing, and tried to steady themselves by grabbing onto the walls. Except for Martin, who fell to the floor in the middle of the elevator. A hand burst through the ceiling, searching for someone to crush within its monstrous grip. Martin couldn't help but scream, and Sam tried to repel the hand with a blast from his shotgun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All that did was make Birkin angry though, and the hand reached further in, swatting in the direction where the shot came from. It connected, and Sam was knocked into January, who had stood just a few feet away from him. They fell to the floor, and Birkin’s shoulder peeked through the hole in the ceiling. The giant mutated eye looked around, the pupil dilating as it saw Valerie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She backed up against the wall of the elevator, shrinking down towards the floor as Birkin’s hand tried to grab her. Martin could only watch as he lay on the floor, desperately attempting to get his breathing under control. He wasn't sure if it was real, but he thought he heard Annette laughing over the speaker system. Here they were, fighting for their very </span>
  <em>
    <span>lives</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Annette was sitting in some cushy office chair staring at them on a computer monitor. And laughing at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was entirely possible he was just hearing things, but the thought of it drove him over the edge. They were so close to getting out, and no amount of mocking or monsters was going to stop them. He hoped Annette could hear every syllable he said as he grabbed the gun from where he had it tucked into his belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This’ll teach you to make fun of my name!” Martin yelled, flicking off the safety and taking aim at Birkin’s giant eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It looked back at Martin, but it was too slow. The mechanic fired two bullets, and both bullets embedded themselves deep into the organ. Birkin roared in pain, pulling his arm back through the hole and flailing it around. He hit the cables in the process, severing them and sending the elevator into freefall. Martin wondered, after his stomach did a backflip, if there was some course of action he could've taken to prevent this situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there was, he couldn't think of it. All he could think about was Sam’s arms as they held him tight, and the way he felt as January and Valerie screamed. Surprisingly, he was content. Even if they all died from this, which was not only possible, but extremely likely, Martin was ok with that. He did his best. At the very least, he wouldn't have to go back to that god forsaken waiting room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator hit the ground much sooner than he expected it to. It must have only been about two seconds, maybe less. He braced for death, but after the initial shock, nothing happened. He cautiously moved his arms, then his legs, then opened his eyes. They were fine. They were all still alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are we still alive?” January asked, rubbing her limbs to try and locate any unseen injuries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin carefully untangled himself from Sam’s grip, to which the boxer seemed just as surprised about, and slowly crawled to the glass window in the back of the elevator. Looking down, he could see the bottom of the shaft, as well as some metal limbs between the wall and the bottom of the elevator. Scrapes trailed up the wall of the shaft, looking like chalk against the metal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emergency breaks,” Martin said, laughing. “These crazy fucking people installed emergency breaks! Jesus christ, are you the bad guys or not? Make up your minds!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Birkin groaned, and the group realized that, similar to Trenchy, it likely wasn't something that died easily. January pressed a button, and the elevator doors grinded open. The four of them crawled through the small gap between the top of the elevator and the floor. They could see Birkin’s mutated form laying on the elevator’s ceiling, and Valerie seemed almost sad at what had happened to the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you maybe need a second?” Martin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valerie didn't have the chance to respond, as Birkin jerked his head up, bellowing at them as he tried to reach them once more. His sudden movement snapped the breaks however, and he tumbled down the rest of the shaft with the elevator. January pressed a button, and the doors to the shaft shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, so, I vote that we never, ever, ever, ever, ever get on an elevator ever again.” She said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed,” The other three said, as they made their way towards their destination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train platform did not disappoint. There was indeed a train, as promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now we just need to figure out how it works. Think you can get it going, Martin?” Sam asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve actually always wanted to drive a train.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mechanic smiled, and leaped up into the locomotive. The other three followed, and before long, they were standing in front of the controls as Martin worked out what each button, switch, and lever did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, so that one makes it go, that one is the break, what’s this one do? Oh, windshield wipers, got it. Alright, I think I can get us out of here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A monitor in the center of the control panel flickered to life, and the group gathered around to see what was happening. As the static faded from the screen, a woman looked back at them. She had blonde hair, and eyes that pierced into them. She wore a lab coat, with a name tag pinned to her chest. It said her name was Dr. Annette Birkin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group had never seen the faces of their tormentors, and all except Valerie, who had known Annette personally already, were a bit shocked at the way she looked. No doubt many of them had imagined some wretched old crone. Not this woman, who admittedly, was fairly attractive. If you didn't know any better, you might believe she was a perfectly normal individual. Not that she may or may not have purposefully turned her husband into a mutant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I will give credit where credit is due. You have done an outstanding job, all four of you. Despite every single obstacle in your way, you prevailed. True, luck was no doubt a factor, but regardless, it took more than that to escape. Now, all you have to do is ride that train back to Raccoon City and tell the world what you’ve been through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We know,” Sam said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want, Annette?” Valerie asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to ask your forgiveness. And, for your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the hell would we give you either of those things?” January asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because that virus inside of you isn't some flu, you little-” Annette cut herself short before she could rattle off an insult. Making the survivors angry wouldn't help her cause. “Because, that virus is dangerous. I should know, I created it. It’s a feat unfathomable by even you, Ms. Harmon. That virus can do two things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make our lives awful, but make us barely strong enough to survive it?” Martin guessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand completely how much you must hate me, Mr. Sandwich. But left unchecked, that virus could-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you can't understand. You haven't been fighting for your life every day for who knows how long. You haven't been forced to kill monsters, or cried yourself to sleep, or have toxic chemicals spew all over your arm!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The virus is still extremely unstable and unpredictable. If you go out into the world, it could bring the entire human race down to its knees!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group glanced at each other, debating. Sure, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> be telling the truth. But why should they have sacrifice themselves? They never asked for this. And more likely, Annette was saying whatever she thought she had to to keep them there. No, this was Umbrella’s mess to fix. They were going home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better get started on a vaccine, then.” Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, plea-” The video feed was cut short before Annette could finish her sentence. She stared at the blank screen, pondering, trying to keep herself calm. She failed. She screamed, shoved her computers off the desk, cracked the keyboard in half, and otherwise wrecked the room before a voice stopped her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Birkin. Doctor Annette Birkin. Please report to the chairman’s office. Doctor Annette Birkin to the chairman’s office immediately please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette caught her breath, fixed her lab coat and adjusted her hair. She left the control room, the door automatically closing behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now let’s get the hell out of here!” Martin said, and they celebrated as the train began to move, propelling itself through the tunnels toward their home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Sam asked. Do you think the city is any different? Its been months, hasn't it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group thought about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I’ve lived there my entire life, and it didn't change at all in nineteen years,” Martin said. “I bet it's exactly how we left it.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Out of the Frying Pan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things are said, and plans are made.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Annette’s stiletto heels clicked and clacked as she walked down the linoleum tiled hallway. Every step grew harder and harder to take as she moved closer to her inevitable confrontation. NEST was abuzz with little worker drones dealing with the aftermath of the outbreak. A pair looked at her as she walked past, whispering to each other. Annette didn't know what they were saying, but it wasn't important.</p><p>Even so, it got to her. For some reason, the inane chatter of two largely insignificant employees affected her. Were they discussing her position? No, for some reason Annette didn't believe they were singing her praises. They must be wondering why she'd been called to the chairman's office. They must believe she'd done something wrong.</p><p>Well, as loathe as she was to admit it, she had. Those test subjects escaped under her watch. Her mutated, monstrous husband was now who knows where. A few repairmen had been called to fix the elevator, and since they weren't currently being mauled to death, he'd obviously moved. This all happened on her watch, so it was her fault. Even though it occurred as a result of Daniel's mistake.</p><p>"And here she is! The woman of the hour!" </p><p>Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Annette walked past the Frenchman, giving him little more than a passing glare. Daniel followed behind her, continuing to speak.</p><p>"Why so cold, mon chere? I simply wish to congratulate you on the spectacular show you put on!" He chuckled. "No doubt it will have a long lasting impact on your career."</p><p>Annette whirled around, her hand raised and set on a collision course with Daniel's face. The Frenchman was ready for it, however, and caught her wrist just inches before it got his cheek.</p><p>"Careful, now. I put a lot of effort into my face. You don't want to know what happens to people who harm it."</p><p>He squeezed the scientist's wrist, and she pulled away, rubbing at the now red mark appearing on her pale skin. She glared at him again.</p><p>"Did you know this would happen?"</p><p>"What? You mean the escape? Of course not! I could never have imagined that little sassafras and his friends would ever have the guts to attempt something like that!"</p><p>"But you knew about that air vent, didn't you?"</p><p>Daniel sighed. "Oui, I did."</p><p>Annette hissed, and continued her purposeful stride to her destination, talking to the Frenchman over her shoulder as he followed behind her. </p><p>"This happened because you failed at your job, and I intend to say as much to the chairman."</p><p>"Oh, S'il vous plaît, Madame scientifique. Have some mercy! I did my best, I swear!"</p><p>"You left a giant air vent leading directly into the rest of the facility!"</p><p>"Oui, and the engineers who built the Death Star left a vent leading directly to the core, but nobody ever realizes how difficult it must have been to construct such a massive facility in the first place!"</p><p>"The Death Star isn't real you idiot!"</p><p>"My point is," Daniel said, positioning himself between her and the doors to the chairman's office. "Building a maze as complex and, how you say, customizable as that takes a tremendous amount of effort. Unfortunately, in today's age, we simply do not have the technology to make it perfect. There needs to be certain aspects of it that must remain consistent."</p><p>Daniel leaned in as Annette jerked back, and the Frenchman smiled at her.</p><p>"Be thankful for what I achieved, mon chere. At the end of the day, you and I both know that it was your own failure that lead to this situation."</p><p>With that, Daniel turned and threw open the doors, walking in ahead of her. Annette took a deep breath, preparing herself. This is going to be painful, she thought, as she stepped inside.</p><p>"This is going to be painful, are you sure you want to do this?" Sam asked.</p><p>Martin bit his lip, considering, as he flicked his eyes up and down, taking in the specifics of the situation.</p><p>"Can you, um, can you maybe, you know, be gentle?" The mechanic asked.</p><p>Sam grinned. "As gentle as I possibly can be. I promise."</p><p>That seemed to comfort Martin, and he nodded. "Ok, go ahead."</p><p>Sam took a deep breath. "Ok. One… Two… Three!"</p><p>"Ouch!" Martin yelped.</p><p>"You alright?"</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."</p><p>"I told you it would hurt."</p><p>"Shut up, let's do it again!"</p><p>"You are way too into this game," Sam said, as he held his hands out, palms up, and watched Martin place his own on top of them, palms down.</p><p>The jock tried his best not to focus on how much smaller and more delicate the mechanic's hands were compared to his own. Instead, Sam focused on the teen's eyes. He'd never had the opportunity to examine them so closely for so long. He made a mental note to play this game with him more often as he smiled and flipped his hands in the other direction, slapping Martin's in the process.</p><p>"Ouch! Aw, c'mon, why can't I win?"</p><p>"You're watching my hands instead of my face." Sam explained, reaching his fingers out and lifting Martin's face up until the mechanic was looking directly at him. "The point of this game isn't to have good reflexes, it's to see if you can read your opponent better than he can read you."</p><p>Martin couldn't help but swallow as Sam's fingers grazed his chin, but he managed to stay focused. He paid careful attention to Sam's eyes, nose, and mouth as their hands returned to the appropriate position. After a few seconds, Martin saw the faintest hint of a smirk appear on Sam's lips, and he quickly moved his hands to his sides as Sam flipped his hands over.<br/>
"See? You did it!"</p><p>"I did? I did! Haha, I actually did it!" Martin yelled, pumping his fist into the air.</p><p>"I knew you could!" Sam said.</p><p>Martin settled himself back on the floor, sitting on his knees. Sam sat cross-legged in front of him. January was fiddling with her PDA in the corner, and Valerie stared out the window as the train moved steadily forward.</p><p>"Hey, guys?" Martin said, grabbing the group's attention. "What do we do? You know… when we get there."</p><p>"I thought it was obvious. We go to the police." Sam said.</p><p>January laughed. "Please, we can't trust the fuzz! Chief Irons is totally in Umbrella's pocket!"</p><p>"What? That's insane!" </p><p>"Uhhh, more insane than zombies, monsters, a half robot half science experiment in a trenchcoat, and a mutated scientist trying to kill us?"</p><p>"Still," Sam said. "The chief of police? He's a good man, I mean-"</p><p>"She's right." Valerie said. "Chief Irons has been working with Umbrella for years. We can't go to the police."</p><p>"So, what should we do? We can't just go into hiding, can we?" Martin asked.</p><p>"Definitely not. We wouldn't make it far before they found us." Valerie said.</p><p>"So… what, then?"</p><p>The group was silent for a moment, before all except Martin speaks the same few words.</p><p>"I want to go home."</p><p>Martin's eyes widened. "You guys just want to split up?"</p><p>"I miss my computer!" Jan said.</p><p>"I need to see how my roommate is doing," Valerie said.</p><p>"And if I don't head back to the venue where my fights get organized, I might never get to go in the ring again. Who knows what they think of me now." Sam said.</p><p>"I see… yeah, I… I guess that makes sense."</p><p>"Don't you want to go home, M?" Jan asked.</p><p>Martin didn't answer, however. He simply stood and walked to the train's control panel, his attention shifting between the blinking lights of the buttons and the stars out the window. Sam walked over, standing at his side, watching the boy's fingers drift aimlessly along the metal face and plastic buttons.</p><p>"You're upset about something, aren't you?"</p><p>Martin sighed. "Not upset exactly. I guess I'm just coming to terms with a reality I didn't want to accept."</p><p>"And what reality is that?"</p><p>"That life goes on, and things change, whether you want them to or not. We were stuck in that maze for so long… as awful as it was, I still enjoyed it sometimes. I liked the fact that we were all in it together. That we always had each other to lean on every day, and that we were always together afterwards."</p><p>Sam listened to Martin speak, hearing the words he said. He understood them to a degree. However, there was an undertone he couldn't quite grasp. It wasn't just that Martin was afraid that things would change. There was something else to it.</p><p>"Hey, Sam?" </p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Do you think, well… do you think we'll all still be friends, when this is over?"</p><p>"Honestly? I don't know. I feel like, when you make friends under such specific circumstances, it's hard for those relationships to survive when the circumstances change."</p><p>"Do you think... we'll still be friends?"</p><p>Sam took a second to realize that Martin was talking about the two of them. Sam probably should've thought before he spoke, but his subconscious felt that any more hesitation would give Martin the impression that he was lying. Or maybe it was that, regardless of how embarrassing it may have sounded, Sam didn't care. No other words could properly convey how he felt.</p><p>"I'm never letting you go."</p><p>"What do you mean, never?!" Annette yelled, shocked at the verbage used by her female colleague.</p><p>Alex Wesker clicked her pen as she wrote something on her clipboard. She often took personal notes about any number of topics. She had many observations about people written down on scraps of paper. Doesn't respond well to being told no, Alex wrote, as she returned her gaze to Annette, who stood on the opposite end of the large, circular conference table.</p><p>"I mean just that, Annette. You will never take part in another trial. This blunder is one that can never be allowed to happen again. We can't even take the chance."</p><p>"Oh, would you like to talk about blunders? Because I'm hardly the first to make one! Daniel knew there was an escape route, and he left it there!"</p><p>"There was nothing I could do, the vent had to be there!"</p><p>"Then why didn't you at least tell us it was there?!</p><p>"Blame isn't a good look for you, Annette. I suggest you stop before you make things worse for yourself."</p><p>"Need I remind you, Ms. Wesker," Annette retorted, making sure to emphasize the Ms. In Alex's honorific. "That the entire reason those trials are even happening in the first place was because you made quite possibly the worst mistake in all of human history?"</p><p>Alex glared at Annette, and did her best not to react to the snicker coming from Daniel, who stood to her right. Alex placed the clipboard on the table, intent on putting Annette in her place. She never got the chance, though.</p><p>"Enough!" The rough, old voice boomed through the room, accompanied by a coughing fit and labored breathing.</p><p>Annette looked to her right, Alex to her left, and Daniel straight ahead as the whirring of an electric wheelchair slowly grew closer. A shape came into view from the shadows as the other three waited patiently.</p><p>"Annette, as much as I would like to believe you won't bungle up another important assignment, we cannot leave anything to fate. What we do next will have lasting effects on the future of Human civilization."</p><p>"Sir, I can do better-"</p><p>"I know you can. Which is why I am giving you one final opportunity to prove it. Your goal, your only goal from here on out, is to find your husband and observe his behavior. Do not engage with him in any way. Observe, and record how the G-virus progresses. We've never had a human subject for it before, and you know what they say about lemonade and biological warfare."</p><p>The chairman laughed, the sound of it dry and decaying. The man was far from young or healthy, but even so, he sounded worse than usual.</p><p>"Daniel."</p><p>"Oui, monsieur?"</p><p>"Annette has a point. Why exactly did you not make it known there was a possible escape route?"</p><p>"Well, monsieur, you must understand, the technology and architectural design we have today have certain limitations-"</p><p>"Did the Egyptians not build the pyramids?"</p><p>"Oui, monsieur, they did, but-"</p><p>"Did the Romans not build the aqueducts?"</p><p>"Oui, monsieur-"</p><p>"Did the French not carve out the catacombs, did the Chinese not build their great wall, did we Americans not carve the faces of our forefathers into the side of Mt. Rushmore?!"</p><p>The chairman had another coughing fit, and Daniel waited patiently for it to be over.</p><p>"Ahem," The Chairman cleared his throat. "Honestly, Daniel, I can go on for hours about what amazing things people accomplished despite having far less at their disposal. I see no reason you couldn't have found another way. There is always another way, do you understand?"</p><p>"Oui, monsieur."</p><p>"Good. Stand by until I tell you otherwise. Alex."</p><p>"Yes, sir?"</p><p>"Call Nicholai. Tell him we have another job for him. Pay him whatever it takes. I'm done holding people's hands."</p><p>"Sam?"</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>Sam had been so preoccupied with concocting some half-believable explanation for what he'd said, he didn't notice the most damning piece of evidence against him. He followed Martin's gaze to find his hand intertwined in the teen's fingers. Sam was conflicted. Obviously this was a very clear indicator of his true feelings, but he wasn't quite ready to let go of Martin's hand, consequences be damned.</p><p>"You kinda dodged my question before."</p><p>"I-I did?"</p><p>"Yeah." Martin met Sam's eyes, and for once, it wasn't hard at all for the jock to understand what Martin was thinking when he spoke. "When we get home… Do you think we'll still be friends?"</p><p>Sam glanced back at Jan and Valerie, who were very engrossed in their own conversation. Sam looked out the window, and noticed that they were approaching a tunnel. No doubt it led into Raccoon's subway system. The jock looked back at Martin, and spoke just as they reached the tunnel.</p><p>"Not if this goes the way I'm hoping it does."</p><p>A look of confusion flashed on Martin's face as they entered the tunnel, plunging the train's interior into darkness. Before Martin could turn on the lights however, he felt strong, calloused hands cup his cheeks, and a pair of slightly chapped lips met his own.</p><p>Martin tried his best not to freak out, but he still did. He had no idea Sam felt this way about him. Sure, he'd hoped. Well, dreamed would be a more accurate word. But Sam had always been a fairly affectionate person. He'd hugged, fist bumped, and otherwise touched everybody in their group. Martin figured that was just who he was.</p><p>But Sam never kissed anyone else in their group. And now Sam was kissing him. Martin couldn't see much in the dark, but his eyes were open wide regardless. After a second that felt like a thousand, Martin started to relax, and actually pay attention to what was going on. Sam was… well, he was a very good kisser. Granted, Martin had nothing to compare it to, but he found it hard to believe he'd enjoy kissing just anybody this much.</p><p>Sam, likewise, was enjoying kissing Martin much more than he'd expected to. He'd kissed plenty of women before, but Martin just made him feel a certain way that nobody else ever had. Testing the waters, he flicked his tongue against Martin's lips. Martin made a noise, surprised. He parted his lips involuntarily, and Sam used the opportunity to gain access to the rest of his mouth. Martin grabbed fistfuls of Sam's jacket, and he could feel his hard muscles through the fabric. He was glad that his mouth was currently occupied, because if it wasn't, he wasn't sure what kind of noise might've escaped from his lungs.</p><p>"Ah! It's dark!" Valerie yelped.</p><p>"I think we're in a tunnel." Jan said. "Hey Martin, think you can find the lightswitch?"</p><p>Martin, reluctantly, separated his lips from Sam's. He did his best to catch his breath and speak without letting his voice tremble.</p><p>"I'm working on it, one sec." He managed to say, before Sam wrapped his arms around Martin's waist and pulled him back into a kiss that made his brain melt.</p><p>It wasn't until a few seconds later, when the girls began whispering restlessly, that Martin finally broke the kiss and moved to find the lightswitch. For a moment, Sam was worried he'd gone too far. But just before the lights came on, Martin whispered to him.</p><p>"Be ready to do that again when you get the chance."</p><p>Sam smiled.</p><p>Nicholai grinned.</p><p>"Da. Da. Oooh, da. They will never know what hit them."</p><p>"Just get it done, Nicholai. This doesn't take priority over your current mission, but it is still vitally important. If you can bring them back alive, do so. Otherwise, make sure they're never seen again."</p><p>Alex hung up the phone as she entered the elevator. Annette, frustrated that her attempt at making the doors shut faster had failed, crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. She glared at The Chairman's right hand with contempt.</p><p>"You hate me." Alex said. It wasn't a question, or even a hypothesis. It was a statement of fact. Annette had never been good at keeping her emotions from showing on her face. Alex, on the other hand, was as cold as can be.</p><p>"Oh, gee, is it that obvious?" Annette asked, sarcastically.</p><p>"Yes, it is."</p><p>"Good."</p><p>Alex rolled her eyes. "It's a shame, really. I respect you very much."</p><p>"You call constantly, and literally, looking down your nose at me, respect?"</p><p>"If that's how you interpret my behavior I can't do anything about that. But you have a good head on your shoulders. Not to mention you're the only other woman around here worth my time."</p><p>Annette laughed. "I never took you for a feminist."</p><p>"I'm not. However… I would be lying if I didn't find your presence reassuring. Believe it or not I do want you to succeed. If you can fail like this and pick yourself back up… maybe I can do the same."</p><p>Annette softened a bit at that. She uncrossed her arms and stood at Alex's side, eyes glued to the monitor as it counted up each floor.</p><p>"Well, I've never endangered the entire species, but William and I… we made our fair share of mistakes. Were they world shattering? No. Life altering, yes. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I had made different choices. But that won't fix the here and now."</p><p>Annette looked at Alex, who met her gaze in kind. "If I can keep going after everything I've done… then I'm certain you can too."</p><p>Alex smiled. She nodded, and then watched as the elevator doors slid open, and Annette walked out towards the waiting helicopter.</p><p>"Annette." Alex yelled.</p><p>But Annette couldn't hear her. The helicopter flew off, and Alex could only whisper as the elevator doors began to close.</p><p>"Try not to die…"</p><p>Martin muttered, Becca's words ringing out in his mind. He did it. He survived. He escaped. He was free.</p><p>But now what?</p><p>He couldn't remember the last time he felt like he had options. His friends held the idea of going home so high up, but home didn't sound fun to him at all. Raccoon City was where he grew up, but it had never been very kind to him, or his family. </p><p>His parents practically worked themselves to the bone just to keep food on the table. Long days and even longer nights meant that Martin had to spend a lot of his time alone. You'd think that things would get better at some point, what with RC being an "Urbanized city with thriving industry and infrastructure."</p><p>Unfortunately, the ever growing tourism rates meant that the cost of living just kept getting higher and higher. Meaning that his parents had to keep working longer and longer hours just to stay afloat.</p><p>That was about the time Martin began to get into mechanics. It started with a broken toy. Martin had seen his dad change its batteries all the time, so he tried that. When that didn't work, he found the directions at the bottom of his toy bin and deduced the issue with relative ease.</p><p>As he kept getting better, he started fixing stuff for classmates and neighborhood kids. He even started charging for it. Only a quarter here or a nickel there, they were only kids after all. But it wasn't long before he had a whole jar of change to give to his parents.</p><p>It didn't go as he hoped. They were thankful for the help, and proud of him to a degree. But Martin noticed how his mother teared up every time she looked at the jar. It was just too real for her. She had to face the fact that she had no idea this side of Martin existed. That she didn't spend nearly as much time with her son as she wanted to. </p><p>Martin's father died in an accident at the chemical plant where he worked not long after, and Martin's mother had to work even more so they could only barely scrape by. Martin got a real job as soon as he could doing repair work for a company that made various machines for use in hospitals. But that only made things worse. On the few occasions he and his mother had time together, she could barely look at him. </p><p>He did his best to make her know that it was ok. That she was the best mom he could ever ask for. But she was so ashamed at the state of their lives, she could never move past it. Martin was scared. He was scared of what he would find if he went home. Would she be there waiting for him? Or would she be gone… in one way or another? He wasn't sure which outcome was worse.</p><p>The train began to screech and squeal as it slowed, coming to a stop at one of Raccoon City's many subway stations. The platform was empty, but for that time of night it was hardly surprising. Martin felt about ready to drop. He hadn't felt the hours passing by. So much danger and adrenaline had been coursing through his system, everything that happened that day felt like a blur.</p><p>Even so, he got up, and stood with his friends as the doors of the train slowly slid open. </p><p>"Thank you for visiting Umbrella's NEST facility. Have a lovely day." The cold, robotic voice echoed off the subway tunnel's walls, making the group realize just how eerie it felt.</p><p>It wasn't just that the platform was quiet. It felt like the whole city was quiet. They heard no other trains clacking along the tracks. They heard no disgruntled workers closing up stalls or lowering security gates. They didn't even hear cars honking as they suffered through late night traffic.</p><p>The sound of their steps reverberated after them as they walked through the underground halls and up the steps that lead to the city's streets. At first, all seemed normal. Well, as normal as things can seem when a bustling urban city is as silent as the dead.</p><p>The group knew though, from personal experience, that the dead were anything but quiet. So when they heard banging, clanging, and distant voices screaming for help, they had a horrid vision of what they would see when they climbed those last few steps. </p><p>There was nowhere else to go, though. So, with quiet, timid steps, they left the waiting room.</p><p>And entered the Hell that had been waiting for them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! If you have any questions, advice, or really anything to say at all, don't be afraid to leave a comment! I read every single one! Otherwise, thank you again, and have an awesome day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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